Zero Probability
by Seratar
Summary: A lab accident involving too much mountain dew, an overworked lab tech, and a whole bunch of mysteriously disappearing hydrogen hurls me from my regular life into a universe filled with a pain, ambition, and slow moving elevators. Chance of survival? Zero
1. Messing with Hydrogen

Mass Effect: Zero Probability

Prelude

Messing with Hydrogen

I hate my life.

I carefully place the newest batch of chemicals into the accelerator and shut it. Hydrogen is fun to play with until the five thousandth time. I rub my bleary eyes and move to the splash of blue light emanating from the lab's computer.

"Beginning test round... Ah heck, I don't know, begin." I grump, tapping a few keys.

'How did I end up here?' I groan inwardly, 'Oh yes, lab assistant, crazy scientist, new machine.'

The machine begins to warm up and for the umpteenth time I wonder exactly what it is. The professor didn't tell me much about it, he just told me to run it with Hydrogen until I got 'results.' Whatever that's supposed to mean. I should really be at home studying, or better yet, sleeping. I have a BioChem final in the morning, and instead of doing what's important for my future, I'm here in a lab trying to work a machine whose origins are more than a little vague. Still, the extra credit is nice, and the money helps assuage the pain. Money helps all things, who doesn't need money? I suppose I can put up with vague for the amount that the professor pays me.

I set the sensors for alert mode and pull my notes closer to the dim LCD light, hoping to get a little studying done as I wait for the machine to start. In all reality, I should probably stop worrying about it. I know the stuff, and the test won't be much harder than the others I've taken. Chemistry, well, science, is my passion, I have a hard time _not_thinking about it. I suppose that might be unhealthy to some psychologists, but I don't think any man got anywhere by not loving his work.

My studying is interrupted as an alert pops up on the screen. I look closer and see that the system is primed. Now all I have to do is cross my fingers and wish to the magical fairy.

"Alright, be nice to me this time, let's take it slow." I mumble, confirming the start.

An edge of overly dulled anticipation creeps into my mind like molasses as the process begins. I don't understand what most of the bars mean, or what exactly the professor is trying to do, but one thing is for sure. It looks like the Professor is trying to create a new element.

But why is he using hydrogen?

The machine hums steadily, and the sensors begin to respond. Looks steady so far. I slowly increase the power, readings are shifting, but still within the green. My anticipation jumps a little, usually by this time the hydrogen just disappears, and I have to prepare another batch. I've come to hate electrolyzing water over the past four hours.

The hydrogen begins to react, and I hold my breath, hoping against hope. If this is it, I can go home and sleep, and-

Poof.

Nothing.

"Son of a..." I snarl, slamming my fist into the desk, causing my Mountain Dew to jump slightly.

I kick my seat and stalk over to the apparatus, wanting nothing more than to tear it from it's seating and hurl it across the room. I fume for a few more seconds, them close my eyes.

"Calm," I order, regulating my pulse and lowering my body temperature, "Just relax, get the tubes, and start over, the next time will work."

Yeah right.

I flip the latches to the compartment open, and reach for the handle as a tingling sensation runs up my spine. Something doesn't feel right. I hesitate as my hand falls on the handle, feeling that same feeling, but stronger.

Bloody Mountain Dew.

I release the last thing holding the reinforced steel compartment shut, and my sanity is consumed by blue.

* * *

><p>I'm floating. Strange.<p>

I open my eyes, and see the vastness of eternity spread out before me. I gaze in wonder at the specks... No, universes laid out on the grand canvas of all that there is. I feel like I could reach out into forever and touch them all, gather them into my hands and...

Is this what God feels?

Something flashes before my eyes. A scene of death, carnage. A scene of pain.

I gasp, clutching at my head. What was that? Where di-

Another flash, more pain. A blood red sky shimmers before me, and giant shapes descend from the sky. Their shadows dance across the ground, as the blood flows like rivers. I see death, so much death.

I scream as the vision closes. Why is this happening?

A lone figure stands before the shapes, and a throne of bone, blood is his dominion. I see the dying raise their hands towards him, then everything erupts into-

I have no strength left to scream. Tears of blood and blue leak from my eyes, and form rivulets down my cheeks and across my body. Searing pain! A slow pressure builds, until it feels as if my body would burst if there were any place for my innards to escape. The sun burns with fierceness, scouring the flesh from my bones, and then... nothing.

* * *

><p>The memory of pain haunts me.<p>

I lay curled in a ball, somewhere, it doesn't matter. I have no strength left, all I want to do is dash my brains out against the ground upon which I lay, but all I can do is sob and shake.

Although I'm not aware of it, time passes, and I finally gain a firm enough hold on my senses to open my eyes. I breathe very slowly, then shut my eyes again, applying the mental exercises I've used since I was a child to calm myself, refocus my thoughts. The pain is gone. Relax, focus, uncurl.

Where am I?

I'm nowhere I recognize. I'm in a small room filled to the brim with crates, metal crates. A small pool of blood, sweat and tears is underneath me, and a door is set into the wall a few feet away. Wherever I am, it's not home.

I groan, then thank fortune that it was my rest day for workouts. My body is already pretty much toast, I can't imagine what it would feel like if I had been sore before I got here.

Before I have time to think anymore, I feel something... strange. Then a blaring siren goes off. What's happening?

I look up, and see the roof of the room I'm in snap open, and all of the sudden, I feel my body being hurled into the air. A moment later, I can't breathe, and I feel like my entire body is being crushed and torn apart at the same moment. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

As this experience enfolds me, something else happens. The emptiness around me is suddenly filled with blue light, I find that the pressure has ceased, and even though I can't breathe, my lungs don't burn any more.

What's happening?

I stare around me, and realize, that against all odds, I'm somehow floating in a void of stars, and flying crates. I've somehow been ejected into space. Even stranger than that, is the fact that I'm still alive. The blue bubble around me feels... solid, which is strange, because it seems to be constructed of nothing more than light. I try to move, but I'm held motionless.

Something bumps into my prison, and I notice that it's a body... my body. I would scream if I could, but I can't. Instead, I just stare. Then I see them. Dozens of them.

Me. All of them dead, frozen bodies. My bodies.

What is going on?

Something bright... brighter than the sun flashing into existence, growing steadily larger. I try to turn away, but I can't. Pain scalds my eyes, then the light stops.

A space ship.

My injured eyes stare in amazement as the large metal craft glides through space towards me. I want to turn and run, I want to scream, I want to do something, but I can do nothing. All I can do is stare as the ship drifts towards me, sucking up the space debris in it's path. It's heading straight for me.

In a moment, an open door on the craft closes over me, and I find myself floating in some kind of bay. What is this?

A strange language I don't understand blares through the air, and I suddenly find myself slamming into the ground. The shimmering aura of blue snaps out of existence, and I suck in the first breath I've taken in a few minutes.

Where am I?

I stare at the ceiling, then hear something approaching. I try to move, but my muscles appear to be completely shot. In fact, even thinking about moving brings pain to my body.

As I contemplate this pain, I hear something approaching me at a swift pace.

"Is he alive?" Someone asks.

"He appears to be breathing. I am not sure how though, he was in open space for at least a minute without any kind of suit." Another voice replies.

"He was covered in a mass effect field of some kind." The first voice says, "Get him to the medical bay."

A blue hand reaches over my vision, then I feel blessed darkness creep over my body.

* * *

><p>When I awake, my body still feels sore, but the constant pain is gone. My eyes flick open, and I find myself staring at a ceiling. A very white ceiling. I wonder if someone carted me off to the hospital while I wasn't looking. I suppose the mind blowing hallucinations I've been having would set off some kind of physical reaction. I wonder how long it took the professor to find me. He doesn't usually show up to the lab until seven.<p>

The first thing that flashes through my head is my insurance. Or the fact that I don't have any. I quickly put that thought away before all of the medical bills and such can stack up in my head and possibly cause some more damage to my already hurting brain. I'll burn that bridge when I cross it.

"You're awake." Someone says.

My eyes flick left, and I spot someone in my peripherals in a black space suit of some kind, facing away from me. I would crane my neck to take a better look, but it appears as if the muscles in that region of my body won't respond to any kind of stimuli.

"Relax, your little jaunt in open space was not kind to your body at all. Most of your muscle tissue was shredded as the blood froze inside it. I'm quite frankly amazed that you are alive. Another millisecond of exposure, and your heart would have succumbed." The person explains, "The others were not so lucky..."

"Who?" I manage.

She turns, and I nearly yelp. I may have if I had had the air to do so. Before me stands a blue skinned, tentacle headed alien. For lack of a better description, I appear to have run into an Asari. But of course, that would be ridiculous, Asari aren't real, they're part of a fictitious universe created by our friends at Bioware.

"What are you?" I blurt.

She looks taken aback for a moment, before a look of understanding crosses her eyes, "Ah, I see."

"See what?" I ask, trying to sit up.

My abs scream in agony, and I find myself falling back onto the table, hissing at the pain.

"I told you." She notes, "Are you convinced?"

I nod, pain spiking through my neck as I do so, "Ok, but what are you?"

"I am an Asari."

No way. This is not happening.

"I must be dreaming." I mumble.

"I am afraid you are not," She says, "Although by the looks of it, your body has been in a dream state for the past twenty-two years. This is also your apparent age."

I blink, "What?"

"You have been dreaming since the day you were created." She explains.

"You mean born." I interject.

She pauses before continuing, I can sense the hesitation in her voice as she speaks.

"Not necessarily." She replies, "From what we've been able to gather from your DNA and samples from the other bodies we found, you are an exact copy of approximately twelve other beings who have since perished."

Well, if that isn't a comforting statement, I don't know what is.

"What?" I manage through my disbelief.

"We are in pursuit of a group of scientists who have been conducting some rather unorthodox experiments upon humans in order in induce a-"

"That will be enough Illia." A stern, flanged voice orders.

Somewhere in the back of my partially malfunctioning mind, a voice pipes up that I am about to meet a Turian. I've always wanted to meet an intelligent veloceraptor. Images of Jurassic Park pop into my head, and I find myself smiling slightly at the thought.

"Are you able to understand me?" A Turian asks.

I manage to swing my head toward the voice, and come face to face with someone who should be dead. Well, will be dead now that I think about it.

"Nihilus?" I breathe.

I suddenly find myself staring down the sleek barrel of a pistol.

"How do you know me?" He demands, his voice cold.

I gulp, finding myself unable to speak. He actually looks like he's going to shoot me after the protracted silence, but the Asari steps in.

"Nihilus!" She chides, "He is still suffering from a severe amount of internal damage. His brain probably is not working properly. He could have heard it while unconscious. If you wait a while, I am sure he will be able to answer any questions you may have."

The killer gleam in his eyes drops away, but the weapon remains at eye level, making me feel distinctly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, uncomfortable and I don't have a very good track history, it usually leads to small mistakes.

"I saw you die." I blurt, only realizing what I have said after the betraying words leave my mouth.

The ridge over his left eye rises slightly, and I find myself searching for an excuse.

"That is to say, I thought I saw you die… and there wa-" I stumble out.

"Enough." Illia cuts in, "You can clearly see that he is not in good health. You are not dead, so whatever he knows about you is probably jumbled in with some other information that has been downloaded into his mind. Go Nihilus, I will have him report to you when he is ready."

Nihilus glances at her, then puts away his weapon, "Very well, I trust your judgment. But he is not to be allowed out of the sick bay before I have interrogated him personally. Understood?"

She nods, "That is reasonable."

Nihilus gives me one last glance, inclining his head a fraction, then marches away. Well, at least I wasn't picked up by Saren. Nihilus is one of the good guys, or at least, not in league with the crazed prophet of the Geth. I don't imagine that a bullet to the back of the head is an appropriate greeting between fellow agents of a millennia old genocidal machine race.

"Don't worry about him." Illia says, moving my head back into a more comfortable position, "Nihilus is a Turian of honor, he will not harm you or allow you to come to harm. He is merely on edge, we have been following these men for weeks with no results. You are in effect, our first lead."

"But I don't know anything!" I protest, "I just woke up, and I was suddenly in space!"

She raises a finger to her lips, "Rest now young human, your body must recover it's strength."

I feel something prick the side of my neck, and the world fades away.

* * *

><p>I feel myself floating in some kind of fluid. My eyelids feel so heavy, and I feel so small.<p>

"What is the progress?" A cool voice asks.

"They are maturing on schedule," A more nasal voice replies.

"Can you not make them grow any faster?" The first voice presses.

A snort, "This is very delicate work. The organs need time to mature properly, any kind of growth hormone would cause irregularities, especially when working with the systems we are. If you wanted quick you should have been making Salarians, not humans. Fear not, your little toys will be complete in the time frame that _I_ have supplied. When can I expect payment?"

"When the product is delivered." The first clips out, "You have your retainer, and all the equipment you need. Do your work, and I will reward you handsomely. Fail to do so…"

"Do not try to intimidate me." The second shoots back, "I may not be a cold blooded killer like yourself, but I _am_ quite capable and this is my domain."

A snort.

The world fades.


	2. Your Own Two Feet

Hey everyone, so, there was a very legitimate question asked last chapter which is; will this be canon. Answer; yes, I will be embarking on Shepherd's adventure, there's just a little bit of a filler before that so that I can make Kevin here a legitimate choice as crew member.

That's about it, enjoy.

* * *

><p>Mass Effect: Zero Probability<p>

Chapter 1

Your Own Two Feet

"Try to sit up." Illia coaxes me.

I close my eyes and steel myself. Movement still causes a nauseating amount of pain, but I figure that I'm going to have to start somewhere, I can't very well lay on a bed for the entire of my sojourn in this crack vision.

I tense my abs, then grab a bar on the side of the bed to assist myself. A small flash of pain jumps through my body, which I quickly suppress, and I find myself rising. In a moment, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and grimaces, trying to stretch every muscle in my body at once. I figure I look a little funny trying, as I see a hint of amusement enter the Asari's eyes.

"Excellent. Any pain?" She inquires.

I roll a shoulder, "Yeah, just a bit, but not nearly as bad as it was."

She makes a note on her datapad, "That is to be expected. Can you walk?"

That seems like a daunting prospect, but I gingerly lower myself to the floor, my arms complaining as I put more weight on them. My feet touch the ground, and I let more weight down on them, I smile, then begin to twist to the left an-

A lance of agony shoots through my spinal column, and I hear myself cry out in pain as my vision begins to tunnel out. Instantly, a pair of hands is there, pushing me back onto the bed. Stars dance across my vision, and I blink rapidly as unshed tears gather to the corners of my eyes.

"What was that?" I gasp out.

"It seems as if the damage to your cartilage was more extensive than I believed." She indicates, "It will take a little more time to regenerate the tissue in your spine. What you felt was a very acute form of arthritis."

"Wow." I mumble, my thoughts spinning, "That must be why grandpa complains so much."

She makes a note, "I imagine your case is a little more severe. The progressive damage of aging in the human body allows your mind and nerves to adapt to the new, every day stresses that are applied to it. Your cartilage effectively aged about a hundred years in a matter of minutes, you are not used to the pain that is usually associated with such illnesses."

"You can fix it, right?" I ask.

She nods, "Tissue repair of this kind is quite simple, a few more hours and some injections, and you will be as good as new. I quite like that human saying."

"I've never been happier to hear it." I confide, closing my eyes, "Go ahead doc, shoot me up."

No reply comes, but a slight tingling in my left arm lets me know that I have been injected with whatever miracle drug the future has come up with.

"Can you tell me what happened to me?" I ask, "The whole floating in space incident?"

A hesitation, "Nihilus would rather I not talk concerning this until he has had time to speak with you."

"I think the operative word he used was interrogate." I note.

She laughs, a soft, tinkling sound, "I would not worry so much if I were you young human. Nihilus is a hard Turian, but a fair one. If you truly are innocent, he will not condemn you."

"You trust him?" I ask.

"With my life." She replies, "I have worked with Nihilus for many years now, his skill is without parallel, and he has one attribute that is hard to find in a Spectre, compassion."

"Didn't seem like that to me." I say.

"You shall see." She says, "As for what happened to you. Well, we don't know everything, but from what I have been able to deduce, you were a failed experiment of some kind, ejected into space as garbage. You survived because we were on their trail, moments behind them. Nihilus decided that it would be best to collect the debris rather than continue the hunt. You were very lucky."

"Just luck?" I ask.

"Well…" She responds, "We also detected a small mass effect field in the vicinity, and were not sure if it was a trap, or simply a malfunctioning device that had been jettisoned."

I mentally thank the blue field that surrounded me, "And what about the experiment, what were they doing to me?"

I can practically smell the lie in her voice, "I do not know. Perhaps Nihilus will have some insights for you."

"You're not a very good liar." I grunt.

"You are correct." She says, "good night."

"Huh?" I mutter dumbly, my consciousness fading.

XXXXXX

When I next awake, Mister Happiness is standing over me. Let me clue you in on a secret, if seeing a Turian is the first thing that you do in the morning, you won't have many good mornings. I jerk slightly as his face comes into focus, and I find myself meeting his steely gaze.

"Stand." He orders.

I feel compelled to obey. This guy isn't just a character on a screen any more for me, he is a real person, larger than life in fact. I notice with some relief that the pain in my body has lessened even more, and the sharp agony I associated with moving my spine is completely gone. When I find a way home, I'm taking some of that stuff with me.

"Follow." He commands, spinning on his heel and striding away.

With options open to me; either obey him, or attack him and run, I decide that following would be best. For now. He leads me down a maze of corridors, until we come to a small cubicle like room, he opens the door and gestures inside. I hesitate, but quickly move forward when we tosses me a piercing glare. Man, these guys are even worse in real life.

I take a seat in the middle of the room, and he takes the one opposite me, somehow still managing to tower over me. I'm no short fry, but this alien is one big muther, and worse, he knows it. The first few minutes of our session involve him staring at me calmly, studying my every feature. I feel an itch on my nose, but cannot seem to find the strength to scratch it. He probably has creepy mind powers or something.

"Who are you?" He begins

I jump at the question. It came out of nowhere, no sign that he was ready to speak at all. This seems to please him a little, and he settles back to wait.

"Kevin." I supply.

"Family name?"

"I…" I start.

And with that, I realize that I cannot remember by last name. How can I not remember my last name? I've had it for just about twenty two years, why can I not remember it?

"Answer." Nihilus interrupts.

"I, can't remember." I admit.

He examines me closely, then nods, "Very well. Where are you from?"

"Earth." I reply.

"Why were you with those men?" He continues.

"I don't know."

"What were they doing to you."

"I don't know"

"What were their names."

"I don't know."

"What do you know?" He asks, never losing his cool.

I feel sweat bead on my brow, "I woke up in a small room, and was ejected into space."

"And the mass effect field that was around you when we found you?" He demands.

"I don't know!" I half yell, "I don't know anything! I've told you what I know!"

He pauses, analyzing me, "You seem perturbed."

That takes the cake, "Of course I'm perturbed! I just woke up, was ejected into space, almost died, and now I'm being interrogated by a figment of my imagination! Maybe _I_ should be asking the questions here."

He gazes at me levelly, "I shall put most of that down to traumatic stress. Very well, what questions do you have?"

I stare at him, dumbfounded. He gazes back, waiting.

"Where am I?" I ask.

"The edge of the Terminus system," He supplies, "aboard the Spectre vessel Midnight."

"Illia said you were following someone." I mumble.

Annoyance flashes across his face for a second, "Yes, someone who is proving very elusive. Someone who you might know."

Something, a memory I think, tears itself from my brain. I feel myself shoved into the back of my own mind, and my mouth begins to speak of it's own accord.

"They are gone." My voice drones.

"What?" He demands, something glinting in his eyes.

An image flashes before my eyes. A map, stars, a single planet. I gasp, falling forward onto the ground, twitching. Nihilus crouches beside me, rolling me over. His face looks a little, concerned. He checks my vitals.

"Kevin?" He asks.

That was a creepy one eighty.

"I know where they are." I gasp.

A mask of calm slips over his face, "Where?"

"Map!" I blurt.

An orange glow bathes the room, and I suddenly find that we are surrounded by the universe. My eyes are drawn to one specific cluster of stars. I point at it. He zooms in. I indicate one specific star, he brings it into focus, and I wave my hand through one of the planets.

"There." I manage, falling back.

As I feel my grip on consciousness slipping away, I hear Nihilus mutter something into the air, and I am suddenly lifted from the ground by a pair of powerful hands.

Heh, I'm being carried by a Turian.

XXXXXX

I am going to start taking a running tally of the times that I wake up in a medical bay. This makes two. I groan as my mind swims back to consciousness, and I find myself staring at the ceiling, wondering why exactly this happened to me. I am not a special person, I do not have any strange family history, heck, I don't think I have played this bloody game more than twice. So why this?

Right now is the part where I expect an answer to come bursting on stage. I _am_ in a video game after all, things like that usually happen just when you need them. Of course, I guess this is a blend of real life, and video games. Crap, that means I'm no more invulnerable than a red shirt extra on star trek. If there is a planet side mission, I am staying away from it.

Speaking of mission, where is Shepherd? I would think that if I were dragged into a game universe against my will, I would at least encounter the protagonist and get to know him. Isn't that how that fate crap works? I mean, he _is_ a pivotal figure in this universe, the whole survival of organic species as we know it hinges on him staying alive or dying.

Whoever designed this story need a swift kick in the rear.

"It is good to see you are awake" Illia notes

I grimace, "I could really do without all of the passing out. People will think I'm anemic or something."

"What?" She asks.

"It's a disease of the blood," I explain, "causes you to have fainting spells at its worst. Normally it just makes you fatigued. Speaking of fatigue, do you have any food? I could go for a nice juicy steak."

"Anemia." Illia rolls around her tongue, "I would think that something like that would have been cured by galactic medicine. Then again, I suppose you humans have a variety of diseases that are resistant to modern medicine."

That sends a chill down my spine. It's true, anemia probably doesn't affect the human race any more. I mean, they cured all of those vision problems in the game right? What's to stop them from doing something about stuff like anemia? This might give away the fact that I'm not exactly from around here.

Then again, why do I need to hide my origins? I'm sure I could get some help to find my way home if I went looking hard enough. Then again, I can imagine what would happen to someone on my earth who claimed that he was a dimensional hopper, or time traveler, whatever I did. I don't even have a blue police box and army of murderous mannequins to prove that I am what I am. I don't even have any clothes!

Whoever dumped me in this universe is going to get a serious beating when I catch up with him, whether he is immortal or not.

"Kevin?" Illia asks.

"Hrm?" I hrm.

"Your body should be fully functional now, would you like to accompany me to the bridge?"

"For what?"

"We are approaching the coordinates you provided us with, I surmise that you would be interested in discovering a little more about your origins."

Well, on the plus side, the Asari is nice, "I would actually like that a lot."

"Come."

She helps me up, and we move quickly through the curving gray hallways of the ship. I wonder briefly about the dull colors. I guess the future isn't big on color, or maybe it's just an ambiance that they like to create inside of all spaceships. Repetitive, boring, monochrome.

As we enter the bridge, Nihilus tosses us a curt nod, his eyes fixed on the holographic projection before him. The bridge is smaller than that of the Normandy, and there isn't a weird ramp thing leading to where Nihilus is standing, he simply glances up at the image while tapping away at keyboard made of light. I gotta get me one of those.

"Kevin, Illia." Nihilus notes, not turning from his work, "You have recovered well."

I don't think it's a question as much a statement. I guess he's the kind of guy who expects the world to shift and bend according to his will. The strange thing is, I fully expect it. What little I know of Nihilus from the game, and what I know now, tell me that he is not so much of an inspirational leader, but the kind of man whose force of personality molds the men around him into what he needs them to be. Bloody devious that one is, I guess that's why they made him a Spectre.

He stands back, "Preliminary scans show that there are artificial structures above and below ground along the equator. The rest of the planet is too hostile for life outside of five miles from it."

I glance at it, and find myself agreeing. The place looks like a giant snowball, like Noveria, or Hoth. Probably Hoth, since Noveria already exists in this universe. If by some stroke of bad luck, which I seem to have a lot of, I get thrown down to the planet's surface, I am going to find a Tauntaun and ride it.

"Kevin, Illia, you will be with me." Nihilus speaks, "Get him some armor and a weapon."

I choke, there's that bad luck, "What do you need me for?"

He turns to me, "I suspect that your proximity to this place will trigger more memories that will help me piece this puzzle together. Somewhere in your head may be the way to penetrate this compound, and I want in."

"And if I get shot?" I demand, "I don't exactly have a good life insurance plan."

Nihilus looks blank for a second, then chuckles, "Do not fear human, I will protect you."

'_Oh yeah, that's comforting mister 'I die in the first mission' guy._' I rail in my mind, _'I am so dead, again, or whatever. Did I die to get here? I don't think so, explosions aren't normally blue, are they?'_

"Go, we must depart in two hours. That will give you time to get familiar with a weapon." He says, "Dismissed."

Illia leads me away, and I find myself too stunned to try and argue with him.

"What just happened?" I drone numbly.

"Welcome to the crew of the Midnight." Illia tosses over her shoulder.

"What!" I blurt, scuttling after her, "I didn't agree to this."

"Unfortunately for you, you don't have to." She explains, "Nihilus is a Spectre, he is allowed to commander anything he needs with little chance of reprisal. That includes people, especially ones with no connections, or family."

That one knocks me off balance. I had forgotten. I don't have a family here, my family is back where I'm from. A strange sensation of pressure builds around my heart, and I feel suddenly sick. It's not like I haven't lived away from home for a while, but I've always been able to call or email. But now… No thanksgiving at grandma's? No annoying sisters asking for help with homework?

My pace slows, and Illia glances back, "Are you feeling well."

I realize how very blue her skin is, and how very _in_human she is. Nausea wells up within my stomach, and I suddenly find myself on my knees.

"What am I doing here?" I whisper, staring at my hands.

"Kevin…" She asks hesitantly.

"Why am I here?" I plead.

The empty corridor gives no response, and Illia does not seem to understand. I wouldn't expect her to. If she did, we would have an even larger problem on our hands. What kind of alternate dimension do Asari come from? Is it filled with squid people who eat other squids, or maybe…

This line of thought continues, and I find myself calming down, the reality of my situation being locked away carefully by my curiosity. I blink, shaking my head. When I look up, I see Illia gazing at me with a look of half curiosity, half worry.

"I'm fine… I think I broke down for a second." I assure her, getting to my feet shakily, "Were you going to show me the weapons?"

"Are you sure you can handle this?"

No, not really. No, the only reason I am going now is because I know what will happen if I am cooped up on this spaceship. More of _that_ will happen. I just have to keep moving, not give reality enough time to catch up with me until I have some firm anchors in this universe. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be helping Shepherd from the outside of a padded cell, not the inside. This isn't Indigo Prophecy, and I am not a crazy ex-murderer.

"I don't have much of a choice do I?" I mutter dryly.

"I could talk to Nihilus…" She offers.

I shake my head, "It's not just Nihilus."

She gives me a queer look, then sets off again. We reach the armory without further incident, and manage to find a set of light armor in my size. A gray suit with black highlights. How very bland, just like the ship. At least it's not pink, that would have been just embarrassing. I always wondered how Garrus felt when I gave him the strangely colored stuff. Sure, it was more protective, but it probably made him priority one target on the battlefield. Heck, if I saw a guy running around in pink armor, I would shoot for him first just for kicks. Maybe I could get this stuff in blue…

"Try this." Illia says, proffering me a pistol.

I take it hesitantly, the only shooting I have ever done is targets. If they expect me to use this in real combat, things might get a little messy. Targets don't usually shoot back, whatever is waiting for us probably will. I'll probably spend this entire trip cowering behind crates, or around corners.

Illia gestures to a shooting range, and I walk over to it. Shouldn't be too hard.

"The sight is right on top," She explains, "It is a simple direct line of fire weapon, aim and shoot. Don't try for the head just now, go for the body, it is the largest target."

"Right." I confirm, raising the weapon.

The sight is similar to that of the .45 my uncle owns, which is a blessing. I line up the shot on the target's body, stabilize with me left hand, and fire. With a distinct pew sound, the micro shaving from the heat sink is launched through the air colliding with my target. Yep, I still got it.

"You shoot rather well for a beginner." Illia notes, bringing the dummy closer to examine it. There is a nice hole in the upper torso, I probably shaved his xyphoid process right off.

"Well, this isn't the first time I've held a gun." I point out.

She casts me a sidelong glance, then sends the dummy back, refraining from speech. I mentally clock myself over the head. The last thing I need is for someone to suspect my origins, even if it is Illia. She might be nice, but I've known her for a whopping two days, and not all of that has been conscious. I don't know what her agenda is, and what she would do with me if I were to reveal that I was not necessarily a native to this universe. Asari are scientists right? Maybe she would want to dissect me, that's certainly an unpleasant thought.

"Keep shooting, we will be departing soon, you will need all of the practice you can get." She tells me, "I'll see about getting you an omni-tool. We might have an old chameleon lying around somewhere. Nihilus likes to travel light."

I glance at my pistol, "Please tell me this is actually useful."

She smiles, "Haliat armory. I imagine Nihilus will want it back though."

"Wonderful."

She departs, and I turn back to the dummy, "You are so dead, I have emotional issues, and I have a gun."

And that's how the target dummy got destroyed.


	3. Planetside: Hallus IV

Zero Probability

Chapter 2

Planetside: Hallus IV

"And all I have to do is point it and squeeze?" I ask, tapping the orange matrix around my left arm.

"Yes," Illia replies, "But only after you prime it. Otherwise nothing will happen, do you remember how to do that?"

I mess with the knob that is floating eerily above my hand, "Yeah, it's the third position, then push down isn't it?"

She nods, "But that's only for that specific tool, you'll have to customize the options if you get another."

"Thanks." I beam.

She smiles, then turns back to survey the map of the area on which we will be landing. I love this tool! It's awesome, so many useful features at a finger's touch. I even have an overload module on it, which is very nice.

"Illia, Kevin, report to the shuttle bay." Nihilus' voice comes over the intercom.

I feel butterflies flutter around in my stomach, and a growing sense of dread starts crawling up my spine. I'm going planet side.

"Come along," Illia says, "I hope you are prepared."

"As I'll ever be." I mutter, following her as I unconsciously pat my gun and armor, hoping I haven't forgotten something important.

XXXXXX

Nihilus settles himself down facing me as I lock myself into the crash webbing. I really hope I won't need it, mostly because any kind of crash in a vehicle like this will probably result in a giant fireball/antimatter explosion which will more than likely finish the job that any physical trauma starts.

"We are descending into the atmosphere now," Illia informs us, "Prepare for entry turbulence."

I grasp onto the handles affixed to my chair. I've flown in a lot planes, but none of them have descended from space into air. This could be… frightening.

"Relax Kevin," Nihilus says, "Illia is the best pilot within fifty lightyears."

"What about the ship's pilot?" I ask.

He snorts, "He's her replacement."

"She was your pilot?" I ask incredulously.

He nods, "Yes. She has a good aim, and an even better tactical sense. I reassigned her."

"Oh."

The small compartment begins to shake, Nihilus continues, "If you prove to be useful I can have you reassigned as well."

My eyebrows must climb to the ceiling, "What?"

Nihilus looks at me gravely, "I find myself in a very interesting position with you Kevin. From everything I have been able to observe, you are an honest young man, and I like that. However, you are also the subject of a rogue science team, which means you are technically seizeable property, property which I should turn over to the Citadel when my investigation is complete."

"I am sentient life," I note, "Isn't slavery illegal?"

"You are technically a clone Kevin, albeit a very strange one," He admits, "But laws regarding the ownership of clones are quite different from those surrounding the capture, breeding and selling of sentient beings who have been born naturally."

"Can't you just screw the rules?" I ask.

He raises an eye ridge, "It is within my power to, as you say it, screw the rules. My status as a Spectre gives me the ability to circumvent most galactic laws, however, that power is there for a purpose, I am allowed to break the law to uphold its spirit."

"And what is the purpose of the law?" I demand, my anger starting to flare, "Shouldn't the law protect _all_ beings who can think cognitively?"

"The law is to protect all people," He states, "To protect us from each other, and from ourselves. I cannot let you go free if I believe you will become a rogue element."

"I won't"

"I do not know that."

His logic is flawless, which makes it all the more irritating. My jaw works silently as I try to imagine another objection to this ludicrousness.

He interrupts me, "Enough of this, we have almost landed, we will speak more upon our return. I need you Kevin, but know that I am watching you. You have earned a certain amount of respect, but not my trust."

As his sentence finishes, I feel our descent angle shift. A few moments later, we stop completely.

"All scans are clean Nihilus," Illia's voice calls, "ground temperature is ten below zero, I suggest donning helmets for a level 2 hazard environment."

"Confirmed." Nihilus flanges, slotting his headpiece on.

I follow suit and unwrap myself from my restraints. Nihilus strides to the back and slams his fist into a panel. The back folds down, letting in a blast of icy cold air as we disembark. I like that word.

Nihilus takes point, moving in a smooth, reptilian stalk, his shotgun sweeping the perimeter. The freezing wind cuts at my armor, but fails to penetrate, for now. I thank whoever it was that made this armor insulated, and draw my pistol as I follow Nihilus at a light jog.

He holds up a hand, "Clear, Illia, watch the human, I am moving forward to point alpha."

"Affirmitive." Illia says.

I jump slightly. The slight Asari is now behind me, brandishing an assault rifle, and looking like death itself in camouflage white and black armor. She follows up Nihilus' scan with her own, then moves after him.

"Stay behind me, and keep your eyes peeled. The wind will negate any sound farther than a dozen meters out." She explains, "We are headed for that compound."

I look ahead and spot a pair of looming towers surrounded by a series of squat hexagons. Must be entrances to an underground complex, I don't like the looks of it. In fact, I don't like being here, but that's irrelevant isn't it?

We move ahead at a steady pace, and before too long we catch up to Nihilus, who appears to be hacking one of the hexagons.

"Report." He grunts, not turning away from the console.

"No activity so far," Illia answers.

He nods absently, "A number of these are completely locked down, like the hardware has malfunctioned. Whoever is in there either does not want to come out, or cannot."

I take a step back as they converse together about explosives. Something about the two towers tugs at my mind, and I find myself moving towards it. It seems as if I blink, only to find myself standing by the smooth steel-like surface of the structure. I run a hand over it, and feel a humming of some kind through the material. Whatever it is, it's still active.

"Are you my friend?" A little voice asks.

A spin, my weapon coming up, heart racing as adrenalin pours through my veins. My eyes flit over the terrain for a moment, then come to rest on a small girl dressed in a thick, furry coat. She looks up at me expectantly with large, blue, trusting eyes.

Now if I know anything about video game worlds, it's that there are two super powerful things you can find in them. One is old, blind men, they are always masters of an obscure martial art, and will wipe the floor with you if you dare to mess with them. The second is little girls who have the ability to appear out of nowhere. They usually have psychic powers, and will mess you up even worse than the old man will if you upset them. This probably includes telling one that you are _not_ her friend.

So I took the best option possible, "Uhhhh, yes."

"Yay!" She squeals, "Come on Mister Kevin, let's go play a game together!"

She grabs my hand, but I stay rooted to the spot, "How do you know my name is Kevin?"

She grins, "That's what everyone calls you silly! They always say, 'Mister Kevin is like this today,' or 'we need to do some more tests on Mister Kevin.' But today I get to play with Mister Kevin! What do you want to play?"

I ponder for a moment, still catching myself. Obviously the people here know who I am, and they know what I am if they are running tests on me.

"Do you know where Kevi- uhhh, I mean, I live? I think I'm lost."

Her eyebrows shoot up, "Poor Mister Kevin! Don't worry, I'll take you home. I guess you would be lost, I never see you outside. I only get to peek at you when I go to take my medicine."

Medicine? Those bastards, what are they doing to this little girl?

"Mister Kevin! Don't squeeze so hard!" the little girl complains.

I blink rapidly and release the death grip on her hand, "What's your name?"

"Sarah!" She pipes, "It means princess, because I'm a princess!"

I smile down at her, "You sure are, want a piggy back ride?"

She reaches up happily and giggles as I hoist her onto my shoulders, "Where to Sarah?"

"That way!" She cries, pointing toward one of the hexagons.

I move toward the indicated area, keeping my pistol handy as we move forward. I still don't see anyone but us. In fact, I don't even see Nihilus…

I jab around the ears of my helmet for a while, but find no way to open a comm link. I probably should have figured that out before I came on a mission with him. This is just one thing after another. I consider looking for him, but decide that it would be best if I got some answers, then went back to him. There's nothing dangerous here anyway.

I approach the entrance to the hexagon and find that the keypad is green. I tap it once, and the door slides open obligingly. That was rather convenient. I pick Sarah up off of my shoulders and set her back in the snow.

"No fun!" She complains.

"Sorry Sarah," I apologize, "I need to go grab something from my home, why don't you stay out here where it's safe."

She shivers, "It's not safe out here Mister Kevin, it's too cold! I wanna come in some with you!"

I grimace at the doorway, trying to think. It's true that the weather outside could be just as deadly as whatever is in here, but I feel like I should keep this girl safe. Whatever is in here will most definitely not be safe. I'm not sure I could live with myself if I let something happen to a little girl because I couldn't protect her.

"Okay, but you need to stay near the door, and if I yell, you have to run outside," I reply, "I have some friends here, a Turian and an Asari, find them if you run, they will help you."

She tilts her head, "What's wrong Mister Kevin?"

I rack my brains, "There's a…. mouse, yes, a mouse in my house."

She pokes out her tongue, "ewwww."

"Yeah!" I breathe out in relief, "Really big mice, they might try to jump on you if you don't get away. I'll keep them inside, but if I can't, I'll yell for you to run, ok?"

"Alright!" She agrees, "Then I get to find the Turian. I've always wanted to meet one."

I guess I can't blame her. I mean, I would have jumped at the opportunity to meet one before now. The fact that I actually know a Turian now just means that my life has become a whole lot more messed up than it used to be.

I leave the strange little girl at the interior hallway and move in. The background seems similar to a lot of the Mass Effect rooms. Lots of random crates, a couple hackable boxes, and some potted plants. I don't let myself wonder how it is that the plants are able to grow without sunlight, that's a path that I don't want to walk down right about now. No, I'm here for something else.

I cautiously make my way through the maze of hallways that soon diverge from the central room, backtracking more than once. The scenery slowly shifts from habitation to lab as I move. First, a few locked doors that have a sterile appearance, then viewing windows into rooms decorated stark white. I feel a shiver of familiarity as I move. Have I been here before?

I shake my head, no. I was born in the United States of America, I am a US citizen, and I live in Seattle. This is a game world, and I just came into it through a freak accident that deposited me in space. This place is not familiar, it is completely new.

That doesn't fix the strange sense of deja veu.

They used to lead us through here when we we-

I blink, I could have sworn I saw someone over there…

I hear a voice, and spin. My hand goes for my pistol, but my shaking hands barely grasp the weapon. It clatters to the floor under more of the tremors, and I drop to my knees, scrabbling blindly about as my eyes dart from side to side. Someone is here, I know it!

I glance over my shoulder and see… me. My hand grasps the pistol and I stumble forward, turning on to my back. I bring the weapon up, sights unfocused.

I am gone.

But I'm here!

"Kevin…" A voice whispers.

I whip my head around, nothing.

"Who are you!" I scream, opening fire with my weapon.

The accelerated grains slam into the walls and ceiling, but nothing responds. No cries of pain, only silence.

"I remember you!" I call, "Why do I remember you?"

"Truly remarkable." A voice wonders, "It has come quite far."

I try to swing my weapon around, only to find an assault rifle almost plugged into my face.

"Drop the weapon Kevin," A calm voice orders, "And we won't have to hurt you."

A crazy impulse tells me to fight anyway, but I reconsider, letting the weapon in my hands fall. A pair of rough arms haul me to my feet, and I find myself facing a pair of men in white lab coats. Great, now I'm faced with Doctor Horrible and his associate Doctor Doom.

"Can you understand what we are saying Kevin?" The one of the left asks.

I grunt, provoking a sharp prod from the rifle behind me.

"Let's be civil Kevin, now, do you understand me."

"Yes." I reply, "Who are you?"

"I imagine it would be best if you did not know that." The one on the right answers, scratching a hand through his blond hair.

"We should get him to the lab immediately," The black haired one says, "We must find out what Nigel did to make him cognizant!"

Cognizant?

"Strauss, bring him along." Blondie orders, turning about and marching down the hall.

The other scientist follows, and I find myself being prodded along by my assailant whom I have now identified as Strauss. What a strange name. Then again, this is the future, anything is possible. Isn't that the other part of the Levi company name or something?

Whenever I try to slow down, the man behind me gives me another shove. If nothing else, they appear to be in a hurry. I wonder why…

"The other two will be missed soon," blondie says, "We must make our observations quickly and leave."

"What about the experiment?"

"We have one surviving sample that Nigel did not take with him." He replies, "Once we find the secrets in this one, we dispose of it and take the other with us. We don't want our last subject to end up brain dead like the others."

"That could take weeks." The dark haired one notes.

"Then we will take him with us."

That ends their discussion, and sends my own stomach plummeting to the ground. This is no good. They have Nihilus and Illia… I curse at myself for leaving them. What was I thinking? And what about Sarah?

My guard shoves me into a room. The walls are white, and a single dentist's chair lies in the middle. It would look almost medical, if it weren't for the clamps attached to the arms and legs. They're not going to…

The dark haired scientist and Strauss slam me into the chair, and the clamps lock over my arms, legs and neck, holding me in place.

"It is time for you to give up your secrets Kevin." Blondie says, rolling a tray in.

"Please tell me that there are no knives under that cloth." I quip.

"Oh, no knives yet, that is for later." He assures me, "We'll be using some less, invasive procedures to start with."

He carefully folds the cloth away from an array of distinctly unfriendly looking instruments. His careful precision almost fools me into thinking that he might be a real doctor. Mad scientists and doctors are similar, aren't they?

He holds one of the devices up to my head, "Now Kevin, I want you to look directly into the light."

"And if I don't?" I ask.

"I could remove your eyelids." He offers.

"You obviously haven't learned to negotiate, have you?"

Why am I reacting like this? I should be screaming my head off. I guess I've gone well and truly mad, quipping with your torturer can't be a sign of good mental health.

A compartment settles over my eyes, blocking out the light of the room. I wait for the light.

"This may sting."

Yeah, he's a doctor.

The world is washed away in an explosion of whiteness.

XXXXXX

I wake up in my bed. My real bed.

I let out a whoop of happiness and leap up. Or try to anyway. I find that my muscles aren't working properly. I test my legs and arms, but they don't seem to be responding at all. A glance down tells me the problem.

I scream.

Everything below my neck is gone. Well, that's not true, there's a skeleton, and a network of veins running across, through, and around it. The fact that I shouldn't be able to scream without any lungs registers somewhere in the back of my head, the part that isn't panicking.

"Relax Mister Kevin, it's not real." A small voice chides.

"You!" I snarl, trying to point a finger at the little girl at the foot my bed, "What did you do to me?"

She shakes her head, "This is your mind Kevin, you did this to yourself."

"Why would I do this?" I yell.

"Because you feel powerless in your current position," She explains, "You can't do anything to stop what is happening to you."

"I'm tied down in a chair," I note, "I don't think I would strip myself of my own muscle system for that."

"It's not that, it's what has happened to you since you have arrived. You feel out of control, you feel as if you have no power to act within yourself. You are not used to this, you are used to controlling your own destiny."

"Thank you doctor." I grunt, "What are you doing here."

"I am the part of your brain that is starting to get a hold on all of this."

"Why is my inner brain a little girl?"

"Something about the mind you currently inhabit is connected to this child. You have merely chosen this child as my manifestation so that you have someone else to blame for what is happening to yourself."

"You think it's my fault that I'm here? And what's up with this 'the mind I currently inhabit' stuff, this is my mind."

"It is your consciousness, and I suppose to some degree that it is your own brain, but the one that exists in this universe, not in your own."

I pause, "What makes you say that?"

"The discrepancy in memories," She says, "You clearly remember things that you shouldn't."

"So what does it mean?"

"I have theorized that it means that your intelligence has somehow crossed over into this universe, and now abides within this body, this, shell."

I think for a moment, "The scientists said something about the others. Were those the ones that were ejected into space with me?"

"I know no more than you, but that is a reasonable assumption. It is also safe to assume that there was nothing special about this particular body until your intelligence came to reside in it, which explains why you were ejected into space with the trash."

I nod to myself, "Is there anything about this… body that I should know?"

She grimaces, "There is something wrong, no, something different."

"The memories?"

"That, and something else, something about the body itself, something dangerous. There is a part of the mind associated with this wrongness, and it is currently tied up."

"Can we untie it?"

"I think so… But do you want to?"

"I'm about to be tested to death, what do you think?"

"It could be dangerous, more so than even these men."

"I'll take my chances."

She sighs, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"You realize that you are me, right?"

She pauses, then giggles. I really I hope I don't sound like that when I giggle.

"You're funny Mister Kevin. It's time to wake up."

Oh great.


	4. Possibilities

Wow, this was kind of crazy, finished the last chapter yesterday, got out of class, typed for a few hours, the this one just kind of fell out... strange. I might be going crazy. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Zero Probability<p>

Chapter 3

Possibilities

I wake up with a pounding headache. My hand reflexively goes for my night stand, which always has a bottle of ibuprofen. As soon as I start to move, I feel my motion restrained. Ah yes, I'm being held prisoner by a pair of lunatics in lab coats. Wonderful.

I open my eyes and look around. I see blondie hanging out by his little table of horrors, making a series of notes while watching a monitor of some kind. He appears to be muttering to himself, giving little though to the thought that I am awake.

I need to find a way out. I scan the room, but see nothing that could prove to be an escape route. These guys are nothing if not thorough. Bloody iron clad defenses, what I wouldn't give for… Wait, defenses. I'm still wearing my armor. They must have been too excited to bother taking it off, or they haven't gotten to the part where they start chopping me up. I still have my omnitool.

Blondie, you are officially the worst evil scientist ever.

I tap my thumb against my middle finger three times, causing a matrix of orange to spring up around my left arm. Okay, just have to twiddle the knob around with my fingers to position three and I'm home free. A little more…

At that moment, Strauss clubs me over the head with his rifle. My vision blurs strangely, and a narrow tunnel forms around my sight. I go completely limp, and blondie starts yelling something at Strauss, who promptly yells something back.

"- you insisted that we move him here immediately!" Strauss bellows.

"Never mind, just get that armor off of him, and do it quickly, we do not have much time left." Blondie growls.

My vision returns to normal as my restraints are released. Strauss' rifle is once again shoved in my face.

"Get up." He snarls.

I rise to my feet shakily, stumbling slightly. That knock to the head did not help my headache at all. None of this seems to be helping my mental state actually. I should file a complaint or something. There has to be a bureau of interdimensional travelers somewhere on the Citadel.

"Remove your armor." He orders.

I hesitate, and the rifle moves closer, "Hey now, don't be hasty, I just don't want to be standing naked around here."

A clear lie, but he doesn't have to know that. I have one of those skintight jumpsuits underneath, which isn't much better than being naked. This however seems to fool blondie, who waves a flippant hand in my direction.

"Get him a robe or something Robert." He says.

The dark haired scientist moves into view, scowling at blondie, but obeying. He leaves the room, and I find myself facing Strauss again.

"So… seen any good movies?" I ask, still feeling a little woozy from that hit.

Strauss glowers at me in silence. He looks like he wants an excuse to shoot me, which is not a pleasant thought, considering that I am somewhere between cannon fodder and subject of interest to these madmen.

I feel something tugging at the back of my head, probably the source of my headache. It's almost like there is something lodged at the base of my cerebrum, trying to get my attention. The little girl in my head did mention that there was something in there that was unusual. Well, no time like the present.

I hesitantly jab at it mentally with my mind, trying to visualize it with my imagination. Each time I do it, the throbbing in my cranium grows a little worse. I keep at it, and eventually the pain becomes bad enough to make me stumble. I start moaning.

"What's it doing?" Strauss asks, his voice unsure.

Blondie's voice comes from far away, "I don't know, get it back on the chair."

"You heard him!" Strauss barks.

Apparently I didn't, because my knees collapse out from under me, and the pain erupts like a volcano. It spills out of my head and seems to flow over my entire body. I curl up, rocking back in forth as pained whimpers escape my mouth.

I see something, an Asari. An aura of blue gathers around her, and she thrusts forward with her hand. A burst of phantom energy rushes out from her, colliding with a human, throwing him back. Again, but this time the human, same ability, same results. Then it is me. I reach down within myself into a star of burning cold energy, and I feel shifting forces gather around my body. I draw one hand back, then punch forward. A wave of invisible energy bursts from my hand, curving out and slamming into a Krogan, sending him spilling across the floor.

My vision flashes back to the present, and I look up at Strauss.

"Stop him!" Blondie screams

It's too late, I know what to do. I reach down within, and tap into whatever it is that I touched in the vision. Randomly shifting energy gathers from nowhere around my body, sending a blue light up across my skin. From my position on the floor I can't pull back, but I do thrust forward with one hand. Strauss never saw what hit him.

The mercenary doubles over like he's been sucker punched as his body is sent careening into the air. I see a blue rift close before me, and a sudden fatigue washes over me. I hear blondie screaming like a girl as he makes for the exit, and a cold rage overcomes me.

Strauss left his rifle when I blew him across the room. I swipe it up, roll onto my stomach, and open fire. My aim is lousy, but the room is small, and the doctor is not a thin man. Several rounds take him in the back, and he staggers before falling to the floor, blood gathering in a pool around him. He lets out a few gasps, then expires.

I pull myself over to the chair in the center of the room and use it to drag myself to my feet. I breathe heavily, it feels like I just ran a marathon, then swam two miles. What is wrong with me?

Oh yeah, I just biotically threw someone.

I shiver, glancing over at Strauss. His neck is bent at a funny angle, his eyes open and staring. My mouth drops open in horror, I didn't mean to…

My head turns against my will, and my eyes gravitate towards the body of doctor Blondie. Oh my…

Nausea sweeps through my body, and I'm on my knees, emptying my stomach onto the floor, then retching when nothing is left. I drop onto my side, shivering at the horror. What happened to me? I've never even considered killing a man, no matter what he had done to me.

I lay like that for a long time, my brain feeling glazed over. I faintly make out a door opening, and glance up to see the other scientist look on at the scene in horror. He drops the robe that he has brought with him and runs for it. I let him go. There's no point in following him, what would I do, kill him?

'_You could'_ A small voice whispers.

"Get out of my head!" I scream, clutching my skull.

More time passes, and I eventually find some way of coping with what I have just done. I try to tell myself they are evil, but that doesn't work. I try to make them monsters. Nope, they still look human. I finally just tell myself that I don't care long enough, that I stop caring. I feel so cold.

I feel ravenous, but after a quick inspection of the room, I find that there is nothing to eat. Well, besides the bodies, but I'm not that desperate yet. I need to get out of here.

I find that my desire to carry that bloody rifle is about as high as my cannibalistic urges, so I leave it. I skirt the body of the doctor, and proceed away from the room, not caring which direction I take. I faintly remember picking up my pistol, it feels heavy in my hands, but it is Nihilus' weapon, and I should give it back to him.

I eventually find myself in a place I don't recognize. That's okay, I'm not sure I want anything familiar in sight at this moment. I lean against a wall, staring at the door ahead of me.

'_Relax, calm, don't think about it,' _I tell myself, _'Just keep moving, keep busy, you can do this. You have to find Nihilus, they're keeping him somewhere. I think…'_

I punch the keypad, and the door slides open. I find myself in an office of some kind. I move to the terminal and set down across from it. Luckily, whoever was using it last did not sign out, probably blondie, he seems like the type.

'_The type to die screaming' _I think.

I wince, then manage to find a search function. I put in Nihilus and get no results. Of course, they probably haven't bothered to ID the prisoners. I look for prison, still nothing. These guys are probably too ostentatious for a word like prison… Holding cells? Nope. Detention block? Ah, there it is, good.

I get up, feeling a small return of my strength. My mind feels clearer, that's right, just keep moving. I move purposefully, letting the events of today slide into the back of my mind. I proceed to the indicated area and find myself staring down a row of cells, most of which are empty, two aren't.

"Kevin?" Illia groans.

I stare in shock for a moment before dashing to her cell. She appears to have been dumped to the floor and left there to bleed to death. I can spot more than a few wounds across her body, most of them are gunshots.

"Illia!" I gasp, pressing my hands against the force field holding her in, "Hold on, I'm going to get you out of there."

"I am glad that you are okay," She says, wincing, "We were worried about you."

"Don't talk," I order, "Save your energy."

I start messing with the locking mechanism, but nothing I do seems to work. I glance at her fallen form with frustration.

"It's fine Kevin," She reassures me, "Just get back to the- hngh- ship."

I growl, "Not likely. Get away from the field."

"You can't shoot through it Kevin" She says.

"I wasn't planning on it." I reply, examining the portal.

I take a step back, focusing on a rounded curve that I think is part of the projector. I close my eyes, breathing in, and reach for that sensation within me. As soon as I touch it, I feel sheets of shifting gravity coalesce around me. I open my eyes, drawing my hand back. I focus all of my hate and anger into that one spot, drawing more of the power around myself.

"Break!" I snarl, throwing my fist forward.

Something inside of me tears free. I let out a cry of pain as a wave of invisible force lashes out of me, tearing a small hole in reality as the dark matter forces itself into existence. The steel of the projector screams, then is blown back into the cell, bouncing heavily and coming to a stop. The field winks out of existence, and I drop to the floor, gasping for breath. Something feels wrong, like a torn muscle.

I growl at myself and the pain, pulling myself forward until I reach Illia.

"Kevin, what was-" She begins.

"Not now," I cut in, firing up my omni-tool.

I know there is a medi-gel option on here. Ah, there it is.

A syringe of gel fills on my tool, and I quickly apply it to her wounds, hoping that it will be enough. I have training in advanced first aid, but that is on humans, not Asari. Illia's face relaxes, and she takes a deep breath. I let myself finish my collapse, and lay there for a few minutes before realizing something else.

"Where is Nihilus?" I ask, propping myself up.

"One of the other cells," She responds, pulling herself to her feet, "He was in worse shape than me."

"Hey!" I protest, "You need to stay down."

She gives me a look, then winces, holding her side, "Kevin, I don't think you can do that again, and we need to get to him, he could die if we don't get to him."

I pause, then nod, scrambling to my own feet. There is still a strange pain inside of me, but I can't quite pinpoint it. I imagine it has something to do with Biotics, and the organs that cause them to work. I find myself limping more than Illia, mostly because my left leg feels numb.

"Let me see your omni-tool," She says, holding out a hand.

I step up next to her and extend my left arm, "I don't know how to take it off."

She nods absently, tapping a few things on my armor before detaching what appears to be a spiderweb from my arm. She wraps it around her own, activating it and quickly messing with the knob and a menu system that boggles my mind. She points her hand at the lock, and a small screen pops up on her arm, indicating that a hack is occurring. She makes a few tweaks, tapping in prompts. The lock blinks green, and the force field drops.

Illia moves into the cell, prepping some medi-gel, I follow. Wow, There's a lot of blue in here.

"I think he might have already bled to death." I venture.

She shakes her head, "Nihilus armor has a medical upgrade, most of the major wounds were closed before it was removed. The blood has had time to spread out, he is still alive."

She sounds less than confident. In fact, she sounds desperate, causing a glimmer of an idea to form in my head. I covertly watch her as she works on him, is there more touching than necessary going on? It's hard to tell, from my experience, there is a lot of touching involved when the wounds are that serious.

"Nihilus?" She asks.

He doesn't respond.

She turns back to me, "He's stable, but he may be unconscious for a time."

I glance around, "I don't think we can stay here, there is at least one more scientist, and more guards."

She nods, "We were ambushed by about two dozen. More than half are gone, and there are probably more."

I glance down at my gun, and shudder at the thought of using it. I remove it gingerly and proffer it to her, "I don't think I can use this right now."

She examines me closely as she takes it, "How many?"

I grimace, "Two, one was running away."

"It was you or them."

"Not the second one."

She watches me for another moment, "We will speak later, I need you to carry Nihilus."

I nod grimly, even as my stomach growls in protest. Hunger pangs rip through my body, and I find myself doubling over for a moment. Illia helps me return to a straight backed position.

"You have never used biotics before have you?" She asks.

I nod, "Yeah, you wouldn't happen to have any food would you?"

She shakes her head, "You will have to fight it for now, you have enough body fat to keep yourself alive, if you don't try anything like you did back there."

"I don't plan on it."

She glances aside, "I might need you to."

I rub my forehead, "I'm not sure I can, something… tore when I got you out."

"Then we shall find another way, come."

I get Nihilus on my back, and Illia returns my omni-tool. She checks the pistol, looks satisfied, and cocks it.

"I need you to keep moving Kevin," She begins, "Can you handle it?"

I feel an aching, bone deep fatigue that I usually associate with not eating lunch and working. My legs feel like lead, but I push that to the back of my mind.

"I won't let you down." I reply, resettling Nihilus on my shoulder, leaving my left arm free. This bloody Turian weighs a lot.

We march ahead. Illia covers me, moving to corners first and checking the area before moving on. We make it all the way to the antechamber before disaster strikes.

"I want them found!" A voice yells. Probably the last scientist, "Kill the Asari and the Turian. Spare the human if you can!"

My eyebrows shoot up, and I glance at Illia. Those shouts came from ahead of us. There's no way out. Illia grabs me and shoves me into an alcove and sprints off in another direction, away from us, back into the compound.

No!

Before I can protest, she is gone, and I sink farther into the crevice, hating myself for the cowardice of it. A few moments later a shot rings out through the building, and shouts respond, along with more gun fire. I contemplate going after her, screw Nihilus, he'll make it to Mass Effect I without my help. Won't he?

For some reason, I doubt it. Something about my presence here has altered everything. If I weren't here, Nihilus would have continued his pursuit of the ship, as my body would have been just another piece of space junk, not an active mass effect field. Leaving him here would be the equivalent of slitting his throat. I don't think I could face Illia if I let him die, she left him in my care, and I think she loves him.

I watch as a dozen men dash past my hiding place. I wait a minute, then move. Nihilus weighs me down severely, but I manage to make it to the last room before the exit. Solace, I can get out of here and-

A shot cuts into my shields, a field of blue flashing before my eyes. I drop down behind some crates.

"Come out Kevin." The dark haired doctor coos, "Don't make me come over there."

Great, Doctor Evil decided to hang out by the door. I'm calling watchdog on him if I ever get out of here. I hear a low hum as my shields recharge. Not surprising, that was only one shot, and it wasn't a grenade. Maybe he's a bad shot. I peek around the corner and confirm this, out of four shots, only one grazes the very top of my protective field.

I need to do something quickly, or this show is over.

I try to draw the focus needed for another biotic throw, but nothing comes, it's like the well of power within me has gone dry. Not surprising. Whatever happened in the detention block will need some time to heal. I discount my omni-tool, I don't know how to throw an ignite or a cryo blast, and I'm not sure I would even if I could. If I kill someone else…

I need to get close.

I glance around the corner, the doctor is getting closer, taking calm strides. He stops to take a few more shots, then starts circling to get a good shot at me at range. Great, he's tactically minded.

I wrack my brains for an answer, and only come up with one idea. One very stupid, very implausible idea. Then again, what do I have to lose, it's not like I'm not dead if he doesn't get to me anyway. I set Nihilus down, and rise to a standing position, moving out from behind the boxes to confront the scientist directly. He's surprised enough that a storm of bullets doesn't bear down on me.

"I'm sorry to rain on your parade Doctor Evil," I declare triumphantly, "But I brought backup."

I flick my eyes to the door behind him, and he takes the bait. I nearly trip myself in amazement, but my reflexes prove true, and I fall into a dead sprint. The adrenalin pumping through my system gives me the extra boost I need, and I have time to spot his look of amazement and anger in one eye before I tackle him. Come in low, wrap, lift, and slam. Perfect football tackle, coach Anderson would be proud of me.

I come down on top of the fool and slam my forehead into his nose, causing his head to bounce off the floor, knocking him out cold. I breathe heavily for a few seconds, then roll off of him. That was too close.

I get back to my feet, scooping up his weapon and depositing it into the holster on my thigh before moving back to Nihilus.

"That was impressive kid." Nihilus flanges.

I do a double take, "You're awake!"

He clicks his mandibles in what I assume is pain, "Yeah, help me up."

I take his hand and pull him up. He shakes his head, looking unstable on his feet.

"Where is Illia?" He demands, scanning the area.

I look away, "She's distracting the guards, I think she wanted me to get you out."

A claw seizes me by the front of my armor, and a Turian face gets close to mine, "I don't leave people behind Kevin."

I push away from him, "Good."

I toss him the pistol and turn towards the interior of the building, where a firefight is still occurring. For the first time since I got here, I find myself moving towards a fight.

"Stay close," He orders, "and keep up."

Wow, they even talk similarly.

"I'm with you." I confirm, activating my omni-tool.

He steps forward, having somehow forgotten his pain. I guess that's what it is to be a Spectre, fight through the pain, finish the mission. Don't leave your friends behind. I suddenly find myself looking forward to working with Shepherd closely, he'll be just like Nihilus.

The first guard we encounter doesn't stand a chance. Nihilus places a dozen shots into him before he realizes what is happening, and we move on. Two more guards later, and we come to the firefight earnest. Illia has boxed herself in with crates, and is blasting away the shields of anyone who gets close enough to take a shot at her. Of course, it's only a matter of time until someone decides to use a grenade.

As if on cue, a disc leaves the hand of one of the guards, and it spins forward. Before I have the chance to cry out, Nihilus' weapon comes up, and the grenade explodes half way between Illia and the guard. The guard, who is no longer in cover, takes the brunt of it. Another guard drops, and Nihilus dives for cover. I follow.

"Spot for me," Nihilus grunts, "draw their fire so I can get a clear shot."

I nod, trusting the armor encasing my body to protect me from the few shots the it will take. In fact, I can do him one better. I fire up my omni-tool and prime an overload. Time to see what this baby can do.

I burst from cover, dashing for another set of crates, and bullets instantly home in on my position. With a yell, I release the overload at the closest guard, who swears and begins ducking back into cover. The operative word being begins. A flurry of pistol fire from two sides tears the man's chest apart, and he drops dead. I dive behind cover as the shielding system on my armor begins beeping. I suspect that that is not good.

On the way over, I counted four guards, which is now minus one. My shields recharge, and I reveal myself again, pointing an imaginary gun at him. The effect is instantaneous, the weapons once again focus on me, and Nihilus and Illia take him down, this time without the help of an overload.

I duck back into cover, but find that I had no need. More shots ring out, and I hear two cries of pain, then silence. I glance over at Nihilus, and he nods to me, looking as relieved as I feel. I took it for granted that he is still badly injured.

"Nihilus!" Illia storms, breaking cover and moving over to him, "What were you thinking."

"I was thinking of you." He moans, leaning against the crates.

That stops her in her tracks, and I give myself a small smile.

"Contact the Midnight," Nihilus commands, "Have them send another shuttle for us."

"Of course." Illia replies, still looking a little dazed.

My smile becomes a grin.


	5. Biotics, Psychopathy

Zero Probability

Chapter 4

Biotics, Psycopathy, and What Happens When You Mix them Together

I watch Illia closely as she takes a small step back, closing her eyes. I feel what she is doing before she actually does it. The sensation of another biotic drawing on her abilities feels somewhat like being x-rayed, if that is any comparison that helps, sort of like energy dancing across and through your skin. It's certainly less subtle than travel through a Mass Relay. That was quite the experience, something I imagine will be happening again and again throughout my stay in this reality.

A blue aura gathers around her quickly, and she sweeps her hand up, closing her fist around nothing. On the other side of the room, a crate is enfolded by the same light, and it slowly rises into the air. Illia exhales, opens her eyes, and lets her hand drop. The residual energy from the field continues to encase the crate, and it floats lazily for about ten seconds, then drops to the ground.

"Wow," I say, "That never gets old."

She smiles, "Now you try. Remember, the mnemonic device that you've been working on."

I nod in reply and take up position beside her. Doing biotics is a lot more difficult than I at first believed, it's even harder than anatomy and physiology, and that is a serious pain in the butt. I close my eyes, reaching out with my… whatever it is that pulls dark matter around me, and grasp at the invisible force. Sheathes of the stuff settle over me, coating me in a layer of shifting gravity, I shiver at the thought of what that force would do to me if it were to escape my control.

The mental focus required to project a mass effect field is incredibly high which makes it almost useless in combat. Biotics circumvent this handicap by teaching themselves to associate a set of motions called a mnemonic device with a certain biotic attack. The art of controlling dark energy is a lot more versatile than it seems at first glance, it's actually quite elegant. However, the dirty, quick stuff that Shepherd and his compatriots use in the game is anything but that, and the training for it is nothing but endless repetition. You basically have to train your brain to associate the field you want to create with the motion until it becomes instinct.

I bring my hand up, palm facing the ground, then focus my gaze on the crate. I try to hold the image of the crate floating into the air with my mind as I flick my wrist over and lifting my arm up. I feel the energy hesitate as the nodes in my body translate the image into actuality, then feel a sense of relief as the energy slashes across the room away from me.

More energy is attracted to my body, and I funnel it towards the crate as the first wave impacts. A blue light stutters into existence around the crate, and I push all of my focus into it, lifting my hand up into the air as I imagine the crate moving. It follows the direction of my hand, and I grin, shattering my focus.

With a feeling like tearing cellophane, the dark matter disperses from around me and the crate, sending it clattering back to the floor.

I growl, "Stupid crate…"

Illia glances at me, then looks back at the crate, "You're actually doing quite well, did you keep your thought aligned with your motions?"

I nod, "Yeah. Illia, is there an easier way to do this? I mean, constant repetition is good and all, but isn't there a better way to learn combat biotics?"

She shakes her head, "None that we know of. Eventually your mind will come to associate the hand motions with the mental image of your target being lifted into the air, at which point you can either continue feeding it energy, or let it dissipate naturally."

"Can I control where it goes?" I ask.

"With time, as you perfect the art of actually lifting something off of the ground, I will teach you how to alter the plane upon which is travels when it is lifted. You will be able to pull things towards you, or push them away as they are raised up," She explains, "Perhaps you should try it now."

"But you haven't taught me. " I point out.

"Kevin, " She starts, "I don't have to explain anything to you. All of the skills that biotics teach other biotics are simply ways of making our ability to control mass effect fields faster. It is not some magical spell where you speak a few lines and summon a Kra-dashi from the underworld. Just focus your mind on it, and it can be done."

I nod thoughtfully, "Okay, I'll give it a shot."

I draw more dark energy around myself, fixing my gaze on the crate. Instead of moving my hand, I simply will it to move up. Energy gathers around the box steadily, until it begins to drift up at my coaxing. I close my eyes and try to wrap my head around the crate along with the dark energy. A dull pain slowly awakens near the base of my skull, but I push forward.

I open my eyes and imagine the stream of energy from myself to the crate shortening. The stream responds, drawing closer to me, and pulling the crate with it. I instinctively reach up with my hand to grab the object, and suddenly find myself on the floor with a pounding headache and a warm sensation seeping over my forehead.

"What happened?" I moan, clutching my head.

Illia chuckles, then kneels down next to me, "You pulled too hard."

I am baffled by that for a moment, then twist my head to look around me. Behind and to my left is the crate, a smear of blood on it.

"Oh." I mumble, feeling a wave of nausea and tiredness sweep over me.

"I think that is enough for today Kevin," She announces, "Let's get you to the infirmary."

"Thanks." I mutter wistfully. "You're very blue."

XXXXXX

We arrive at the Citadel on a nice, warm day. Of course, when I think about it, the environment of this place is probably controlled, so it's always a nice, warm day. That kind of takes the excitement of a nice day out of it, I mean, what kind of happiness can you get from a ray of sunshine if it never has to fight its way through a thick layer of cloud cover.

"Wondrous, is it not?" Illia asks, indicating the presidium, "The center of galactic law, the one place in the galaxy where cultures mix and mingle together freely."

"It wasn't built by you, was it?" I ask.

"How could you tell?"

I tap my head, "I have a smattering of factoids dispersed throughout my brain, they usually come to the surface when I need them."

She glances at me, "From your dreams?"

I scratch my chin, "I think so."

Since I found out that I'm stuck in the body of an experimental clone, I've been trying to piece together some kind of story for how I know all of the things I do. I finally came up with the idea that whatever life I had before this was a dream of some kind. I know a few things about the Mass Effect universe, so that should account for the fact that I know some important details, but not everything. I can always blame it on imprecise science if it seems like I don't know anything at all. It's all very convenient actually.

Nihilus appears behind me, making me jump slightly, no wonder they call them Spectres.

"I have some business to take care of here," he explains, "Illia, take Kevin to the academy, I will be there shortly."

"How was the interrogation?" Illia asks.

Nihilus snorts, "He does not know anything, says he signed on a few weeks ago. I do not believe him, we will be using some more persuasive methods once I get the paperwork done."

I swing my head to him, "What?"

He nods grimly, "I hate to do it, but we need the information. I will try to use the least harmful drugs, he is clearly not trained to resist interrogation."

I shudder, "Is that necessary?"

He locks eyes with me, "Yes Kevin, the reason the Spectres exist is to hunt down threats that could not be countered any other way. I do what I must to fulfill my duty. You should do that same."

I blink, "What is my duty?"

He smiles, "You shall see. Illia?"

She nods, looking a little grim, then takes me by the arm, "Let us go."

I want to resist. Drugging, torture? That's not the kind of person that Nihilus is. I've had the chance to talk with him briefly over the past few weeks, something isn't right. Another one of those stupid ideas pops into my head

"Nihilus!" I call to his retreating back.

He stops, turning, "Yes?"

"Let me give it a try," I say, "Maybe I can get him to talk."

He sizes me up, almost shakes his head, then strokes his mandibles, "It just might work…"

"Kevin!" Illia chides, "How can you possibly succeed where Nihilus has failed."

I smile weakly, "Nihilus isn't an unstable biotic experiment, is he?"

"Come with me Kevin," Nihilus motions, "One chance. Then I will do what I must. Illia, get all of the necessary paperwork for the academy out of the way."

Illia reluctantly moves off. That lady is so darn protective, kind of like a mother, which is kind of nice really, but kind of stifling as well. I guess pulling someone out of space makes you feel responsible for them or something.

"Okay, here's what I'm going to do." I begin, walking with Nihilus.

XXXXXX

The doctor looks nervous.

I go for the calm, serial killer approach. The door slides open and I move calmly inside, tapping a few buttons on the keypad as I walk past. I'm not sure what I did, but Nihilus makes the door lock.

"Hello doctor." I say evenly.

He regards me indifferently, "I see that they have stopped screening for clones in C-sec."

I chuckle lightly, even though I feel a surge of anger at that, "I'm not a C-sec employee doctor, I'm just one man in the employ of a Spectre."

"And when he turns you over to the council?" He asks.

I smile, "I am a clone doctor, I don't imagine the prospect is as daunting as it would be for a person like yourself."

I let the silence hang.

"Why are you here?" He asks, breaking the silence.

I smile, settling myself into the steel chair across from his own, "Do you know what the first rule of a Spectre is doctor?"

"Spectres do not obey rules." He spits

My smile widens into a grin, "Exactly. The best part about this is that as a member of a Spectre's team, I only answer to one law, his law."

He doesn't respond, but I can see his eyes widen slightly. Good, he's starting to get the gravity of the situation.

"Would you like to know something about me doctor?" I ask calmly, checking one of my nails, "When the good doctor Nigel programmed me, he taught me some very interesting things about using dark energy. Have you ever wondered what it is like to have every bone in your body crushed one at a time?"

I keep the image of a psychotic killer plastered in my head, just focus on the deranged psychopath.

He starts sweating, "I demand a lawyer! I have rights!"

"Oh no doctor, not with me you don't." I lean closer, "You see, Nihilus is mighty grateful that I got him out of that mess that you concocted for him. It's not the first time he's looked the other way, and it won't be the last. The things I can do to you… well, let's just say that I wasn't trained to be a kindergarten teacher."

I roll my neck absently, and begin drawing biotic energy around my body. When I feel the pressure reach an uncomfortable level, I stand, grinning gleefully.

"Goodbye doctor."

"What do you want from me!" He screams.

My fist lashes forward.

The table between us is blown apart by the wave of crushing force that strikes it dead center. The two halves bounce off the floor and hit the walls, and I feel a wave of dizziness overcome me. I manage to turn my collapse into a nonchalant drop into my chair. I hoist one leg over the left arm, very uncomfortable, but I figure I should hold it now that I already did it, image is everything.

"I want Nigel." I confide, "I know you're the new guy, so I guess you can get away from me. Not him, he's the one responsible for all of this. You give me him, and I might just forget that you exist. Do we have a deal?"

His eyes are bugged out, and I let myself laugh at the absurdity of it, "My offer has a time limit."

I raise three fingers. One of them goes down, and I start gathering more dark energy.

"Wait!" He screams, "I'll tell you everything!"

I let myself look disappointed, "I wanted an arm…"

He shrinks back as I reach into my pocket, removing a recording device. I hit a button on it.

"Start talking doctor, before I decide that the consolation prize is good enough."

He sings like a bird.

XXXXXX

As soon as the door closes behind me I let out of breath of disgust. I feel dirty inside. I rub at my arms and face unconsciously, trying to wash away the feeling of wrongness that exudes from my being.

Nihilus approaches me, "That was, disturbing."

I toss him the recorder, "Here's what you need. I need some time alone."

"What was that?" He asks.

I can't meet his eyes right now, "I'm a method actor. When I pretend to be someone, I don't just put on a mask, I let myself become them. You haven't ever read Stephen King have you?"

He shakes his head.

"I didn't think so. When I read books, or watch movies, I build a model of the person who I'm observing and keep it in the back of my head. I add bits and pieces of other people to that model until I come up with a villain, a hero, or pretty much anything. Who I became in there was loosely based off the fisherman, the machine and of course, the joker. Dangerous psychopaths each one, or sociopaths, but either way, they make an effective model for intimidation."

"And you can do this, at will?" He asks.

I nod somberly, "I don't like doing it. I was much happier with it when I played the Emperor in the Emperor's New Clothes. Innocent and foolish he was, it was kind of fun actually. What you saw in there was a cold killer, I call him the Psychopath."

He looks thoughtful for a moment, "I see that they built you well."

I'm almost offended, then I realize that he thinks that my ability is simply part of what was programmed into this brain when this body was being grown in a tank. That's probably for the best, I technically don't have a past here.

"I am grateful to you Kevin," He continues, "I can continue my investigation with this. Perhaps I shall require your services again."

My eyes flash up to his, "You're not taking me with you?"

"No Kevin," he replies, "Although you are formidable, you are untrained, and could prove to be a liability in the field."

It feels like the world around me has been shattered into dozens of confusion shaped pieces. Liability?

"I seem to remember pulling you out of a cell half dead on that frozen ice ball." I point out, "And playing cat and mouse with a bunch of henchmen while you got to shoot at them."

"You also cannot kill people without feeling intense remorse." He replies.

"I can get over that!" I protest, "I can be a-

"Enough!" He cuts in, "Kevin, you have a great amount of talent, that I will not deny. Untrained and unarmed you managed to free yourself and rescue Illia and I. However I will attribute much of that to luck, which, although useful, will eventually run out. You are not prepared to work with a Spectre right now Kevin."

"Then where do I go!" I demand, feeling hot anger wash away the grimy feeling of the Psychopath, "I literally don't have a home, no relatives, and no friends."

"I am your friend Kevin." He replies calmly, "And I have no intention of leaving you with nothing. I take it you are interested in placing yourself in a position where you will be able to assist me in the future?"

"Yes." I confirm. Or something like that anyway.

"Then you will need training," He concludes, "I have enrolled you in the Citadel Security Academy, they will teach you everything you need to know to join me, and provide the experience you will need in order to become an effective warrior. You will receive a monthly stipend, and you may make use of a safe house that I own in the wards."

I find myself grinning, "Really?"

A smile, not very well suited to his personality, creeps onto his face, "Yes Kevin. When you complete your training here, I will take you aboard the Midnight, if you can prove to me that you will not hinder me."

I feel a web of steely determination grow within me, "I won't let you down Nihilus."

He nods, "Very well. Illia will have completed the paperwork by now, you should report to the academy. Good luck Kevin."

I can't wipe that bloody grin off my face, "You too Nihilus."

He hands me an OSD, "This is your new identity."

I fumble around with it for a bit and download the information into my omnitool as we walk.

"You are Kevin Marshal," he explains, "The son of a pair of colonists who were killed on Mindoir."

Man, that sounds familiar.

"The chances of meeting anyone who survived that are minimal to none, so you should be okay." He explains, "The rest of the details are in the file."

We stop, and I realize that we have somehow found our way to the elevator down to the C-sec academy.

"This is your new life Kevin," He says, facing me, "Whatever your origins are, or whatever has been done to you are in the past. I expect great things of you in the future."

I look up at him, which is pretty impressive because I top off at 6 foot two inches, "Thank you Nihilus, for everything."

"Thank me by preparing yourself, we shall meet again." He says.

And with that, he turns away, striding off to wherever it is that Spectres hang out while on Citadel station. I watch him go, feeling slightly melancholy, as he fades into the crowd. I turn back to the elevator and realize that this is it, I'm becoming part of this universe.

"Here goes nothing."

* * *

><p>Okay, before anyone asks, Kevin will be talking to Illia before she leaves. Second; will Kevin meet Garrus before Canon starts? Maybe.<p> 


	6. Looking for Trouble

Wow! It's been a while...

Finals just got done, and my 43 hour work weeks are done, so I should be able to update more frequently. Enjoy the chapter!

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><p>Zero Probability<p>

Chapter 5

Looking for Trouble

The first few months at C-sec pass like a blur for me. Most of what I remember involves a whole lot a yelling from Turian and human instructors, mostly from the humans. The Turians seem to be able to motivate without a whole lot of words, mostly relying on cold glares, the kind that seem to scratch away at the frayed edges of your soul if you look too long.

It turns out that a lot of the patrolling of the citadel's massive collection of wards is carried out by squads of trainees being led by a new graduate. My four man team has a two Turians and a Salarian, one of the Turians is the leader, a guy by the name of Malis. Malis is fair, maybe a little too much, all that duty and honor stuff in Turian society must make them sticklers for things like turns.

Which leads to my current predicament.

"What do you mean I have to take point?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I mean that you will be taking the front on this patrol." He replies.

"You realize we are going into Pirea Ward fifty-nine right?" I say.

There are hundreds of wards, and the ones you see in the game are the tame ones. I imagine it's not quite as bad as a Batarian ghetto, I don't really have a point of reference for something that terrible, but it's not good.

"Yes," He replies, checking his rifle, "I volunteered us for the patrol. I have faith in your skills."

"I'm the medic." I note, jabbing a finger at the mark on the shoulder of my armor, indicating the red cross, "Who's going to take care of me if I get shot?"

He tears his eyes away from his weapon long enough to look me in the eyes, his green orbs delving deep into my own gray ones, "I have full confidence in your ability to avoid injury Kevin, you also happen to own the most advanced set of armor in the squad, courtesy of your sponsor."

"You should have seen how I got it…" I mutter, "There's no way of talking you out of this is there?"

He shakes his head, attaching his weapon to his back, "No."

"Good," I growl.

He raises an eye ridge, "Indeed?"

"I was afraid you were kidding, but that would mean you had developed a sense of humor."

He smiles, "Why do you think I am putting you in front?"

The Salarian, Chemalon, laughs lightly at that, "Must admit, it would be quite humorous to see you jumping around again Kevin."

I shoot him a glare, "I would like to see how you would react if someone had splashed a container of plasma over your foot!"

"Do not think that I am too prone to dropping evidence on myself."

I rub my forehead, "I recovered most of it…"

Malis claps me on the back, "Enough Kevin, let us go."

I nod glumly, "I still don't think this is a good idea."

"You never think it is a good idea when we put you into danger."

I motion to the cross on my shoulder again, then slide into the back seat of the cruiser that Malis has scrounged up for our patrol. He's nice like that. The last member of our squad, Varrik, is waiting for us already. He glances at me cooly, then opens up his omni-tool to keep himself busy.

"Morning Varrik!" I try jovially.

"Kevin." He growls, not looking up.

I sigh. Varrik seems to have a bone to pick with every human he meets. Malis told me to leave it alone, which means that I used every resource I could get my hands on to find out why Varrik looks like he would rather run me through with a knife than shake my hand. Turns out his father was part of the first contact war, he suffered some kind of brain damage that turned him into a vegetable for the last few weeks of his life.

That's the kind of thing that breeds those unkind feelings towards another race. I suppose I wouldn't like Turians too much either if they had done that to my father. I haven't tried to bring that subject up yet, I have a feeling that that would turn the murderous looks into actual murder, and I don't intend to become C-Sec's latest homicide case.

I lean back in my seat and let my senses reach out. About a week into my stay on the Citadel I started to notice a strange amount of background… something. A few days of research led me to realize that my biotic senses were picking up on the mass effect fields created by millions of smaller, inorganic sources. A couple days later, I realized that I was also picking up the Citadel itself, or at least the mass effect fields that gave it gravity. To be honest, it's a little disconcerting, it's like having my brain hooked up to a machine that says; 'Hey! This is you, this is the universe,' and I don't have the luxury of being Zaphod Beeblebrox.

I jolt back to reality as Malis lands the cruiser at the patrol station of ward fifty-nine, and we pile out. I slide the weapon compartment open and extract my pistol and shotgun. I technically passed the assault rifle qualification exam, but I might as well be flailing a pasta noodle around for all of the danger that I pose when wielding one, and don't get me started on sniper rifles. I've despised sniper rifles since Halo 1.

I slip the shotgun onto my lower back, brushing my hand against the activator for the mag strip, and holster my pistol. Ah yes, nothing like being fully loaded.

I glance at Malis, "Where to o' fearless leader?"

"I have already mapped out the patrol route, check your omni-tool." He suggests, "Chemalon, you come up behind him, Varrik, you monitor frequencies for unusual activity, I will take the rear guard."

Understanding Turians has been an interesting hurdle. Their society is more than a little Roman, including the whole mandatory service thing, which I think is good and bad. Good, because I know I'm being backed up by two guys who know their stuff. Bad, because every time you do _anything_ at all, it feels like you are embarking on a military expedition. Not that I mind so much here, but I imagine planning a surprise party would be more like plotting an ambush.

I stroll ahead, keeping my eyes open as I quickly glance at my omni-tool. Our first stop is less than a mile away, where we will do a thorough check for any suspicious activity. About ninety-nine percent of patrols turn up nothing, which is why they let rookies do them, gives us street time or something. Unfortunately, I happen to be the one guy on a planet of billions of people who got shunted into an alternate universe through a freak explosion, so I figure I'm well within the ballpark of that one percent. Nothing bad has happened so far, but I don't trust my luck to hold up.

More than a few citizens pass us by on our walk, with varying degrees of reaction. Some nod courteously, some ignore us, and others furtively glance in our direction before picking up their pace. According to the criminology class that they have me taking, the first people are the most likely to be committing serious crimes. The last are petty thieves who think that we have them connected to some crime. I hate to admit it, but four C-sec recruits can't keep track of every face on the petty criminal list. Heck, I've seen that wall, I don't think it's possible to memorize that many faces that change that quickly. We have a few of the big hitters memorized, and Malis has one of those handy eye scanner things which is encoded to recognize the facial pattern of every person he looks directly at.

"Fan out," Malis orders as we reach the first stop, "stay within sight of one other person, we'll be here for an hour."

The reality of a C-sec patrol is merely to discourage crime, the chances of us stumbling on a crime in the making are minimal to none. I have to admit that there may be corruption in the system, considering that thieves seem to have a little too much information on where C-sec personnel will be at what times. I find it more than a little perturbing to think that someone is tipping off the bad guys to our movements. If I ever find out who is doing it, they will have a wonderfully long time to contemplate the inside of a C-sec holding cell before I inform anyone that they are actually there.

I lean up against a wall and scan the area, just because organized crime knows we are coming, doesn't mean petty thieves do. The sight of a uniform will discourage most of those, unless they think they are hot stuff.

Time passes without incident, and we move on. As we head towards the stairs, my omni-tool lets out a priority message beep. I pause for a moment to open it and read;

_Kevin, take us down the back alley just before we hit the stairs._

_-Malis_

I tap my temple twice, the visual sign of confirmation that Malis taught us, and continue our patrol. As soon as we leave the sight of the general public, I swing a left into a red lit alley and move forward. The only sign of life is a Keeper, who is busily working away at a terminal. Something smells off about the alley, something almost heady.

"Malis," I say, still searching the alley, "Something is here, I can smell it."

I hear a couple snorts, then a distinctive round of clicks as three weapons are drawn.

"Red sand," Malis flanges, "let's take a look around."

I draw my pistol, not willing to pull out all the stops just yet.

After a few tense moments Chemalon's voice rings out, "Malis! Have found something here, come quickly."

We regroup around Chemalon and his find. The Salarian is about ankle deep in red sand that has been scattered across the floor. A stack of shattered crates nearby and a distinct sparkle in the air indicates that this wasn't just a spill.

"Aerosolized drugs," Malis cautions, "helmets."

We don our protective gear before Malis brings his hand to his ear, "Dispatch, this is patrol G-14, do you read?"

"Loud and clear officer," A voice comes through our shared comm link, "What is the situation?"

"We have a 1142-" He begins.

I stop listening at that point as something in the background catches my eye. I blink is surprise and disbelief before reaching out blindly to catch Malis by the shoulder. He makes an annoyed sound, then stares with me as the Keeper who had been working at the terminal drags two lifeless bodies along behind it.

"I think we just stumbled on a murder." I note.

"Dispatch, we have a homicide, send backup." Malis sends over the comm, "I will also need permission to disrupt a Keeper immediately."

So much for a quiet patrol.

"This is why you don't put me on point Malis." I mutter.

XXXXXX

By the time our backup arrives we have set up a security block on either end of the alley, effectively closing off the area to civilian traffic. I am standing outside the entrance when the detective finally appears. Something seems very familiar about him…

"Are you a part of the patrol that found this?" The detective asks in a flanging voice.

I nod, "Yes sir, I took a step outside because of the airborne particles."

"Are you allergic to red sand?" He asks.

"Yeah." I lie.

Keeping my biotic abilities a secret was one of the warnings Nihlus gave me. My entire record is a fabrication, and it only contains traces of what might be biotic potential. It's very hard to fake records of biotic training because of the relatively few people who have the ability. The last thing I want is for someone to go sniffing around my past, considering that I don't actually have one. Regular people can be sensitive to red sand, or more correctly, allergic to it. It causes random misfires in biotics, I don't like to take chances.

He nods curtly and moves past me into the alley, passing through the holographic police tape. I can't stop myself from staring after him, something about him makes my brain itch, like someone is tickling a memory that won't come to the surface.

"Detective Vakarian!" Malis greets.

Ah, I should have seen that one coming. I guess he looks a little different without armor or that weird eye thing on. I watch him as he moves around the scene, taking in the pool of bio-acid that was once a keeper and the two bodies that we hastily moved away from said puddle.

Something in the back of my head tells me I should be more excited about meeting one of the main characters of the Mass Effect universe. Of course, I also just saw a couple dead bodies. At least I didn't kill them this time, I still find the thought of killing someone a disturbing, but not intolerable. Sometimes you have to kill, that doesn't mean I have to look forward to it.

My eyes catch a flash of movement as my thoughts wander. Reflex kicks in instantly, and my hand flashes to the side, swatting the object out of the air. My eyes catch up with my hand and I see a glowing disc careen off wall opposite me and clatter to the ground.

My eyes widen, "Oh you have got to be kidd-"

An explosion throws me from my feet as a warning beep informs me that my kinetic barriers are down. I stare at the ceiling in confusion as the spots recede from my vision. I think someone just tried to kill me.

Adrenaline pours into my system, but before I can respond, a figure in blue steps over me, his pistol sweeping the area.

"Officer down!" Comes a flanging voice.

"I'm fine." I growl, struggling to my feet, ears ringing from the explosion.

I stumble slightly, then right myself, going for my pistol. A headache pounds through my skull as I scan the area down my sights.

"What happened?" Garrus asks, not letting his guard down.

"Grenade," I reply, stumbling again as a wave of nausea washes through me.

"Stay down," He orders, "You don't recover that fast from a concussion blast."

"He'll get away!" I snarl, starting forward.

I get about three steps before the world tilts strangely, and I find myself face down on the ground. Turns out that was a good thing, as a rifle round tears through the air where I was.

"We're pinned, there's a sniper!" Malis' voice crackles over my radio.

A talon grabs me roughly and drags me behind some cover.

"Stop trying to get yourself killed human!" Garrus says.

A haul myself into a sitting position and breathe deeply, trying to dispel my fuzzy vision.

Garrus grabs my shoulder, turning me to face him, "Stay here and give me suppressing fire on the catwalk at the other end of the hall, got it?"

I nod, rising to a crouch as my vision levels out.

"Now!"

I stick my pistol out and fire off three rounds before following, exposing my upper torso as I take aim at the upper walk. I catch sight of a dark figure flitting away as my rounds flash against the walls.

"He's on the run!" I shout.

Garrus speeds past me, and I fall down, my legs giving out under me. Bloody grenades!

I look back into the alley from my position, realizing that no one but Garrus has erupted from the opening. I spot something on the floor that looks suspiciously like a Turian arm. A sense of dread wells up inside me and I crawl/sprint towards the downed Turian.

"Not a doctor, but this does not feel healthy." Chemalon coughs

As I enter the alley I see Varrik sprawled out on the ground, a gaping hole in his torso armor. Chemalon is up against a wall, clutching his side.

"Not very skilled sniper," He remarks, "No head shots."

"He was more worried about disabling us then finishing us off than killing us all outright," Malis retorts, holding pressure on his hip, "Kevin, get over here, Varrik won't last long if you don't do something."

I scramble over to Varrik, whose eyes are delirious, "Hey there Varrik, stay with me mate."

He blinks, his pupils not focusing on anything, "Where am I?"

"You're about to be killed by a human," I say, opening my omni-tool, "You don't want that do you?"

A sharpness enters his eyes for a moment before they glaze over again. I interface my omni-tool with his suit's systems and send a shot of medi-gel through his armor's systems where it leaks into a reservoir over the wound. A warning flashes across my omni-tool and I go for my tools.

I remove an adhesive patch and stuff it into the suit's breach before drawing out one of four bags. When we were first put together as a team I had each of my team let me draw a pint of blood, which I keep with me on every patrol. Looks like paranoia paid off.

Putting an IV into a Turian is a little more difficult than you would think. Their skin is a lot tougher than a human's, and their veins are a lot deeper. I take the large gauge needle and remove Varrik's wrist guard, swabbing it with alcohol before I jab it down into the flesh. I put a little pressure on the blue bag and feel the blood flowing out. Good, I got it on the first try.

I activate my comm, "I need a medevac ten minutes ago dispatch!"

"Emergency medical personnel are already en route." The dispatcher's voice comes back.

"Tell them to step on it!" I snarl, "I have a Turian here with a hole the size of my fist in his chest!"

I hold up the bag and lean on Varrik's wound with my other hand, "Just hold in there Varrik."

XXXXXX

My everything aches. Varrik is soaring through space towards the presidium medical center, only time will tell if he will make it. The area is now crawling with C-sec, and I am slumped up against the nearest wall watching the transport with Chemalon and Malis depart.

Garrus strides over and takes a seat beside me, "He got away."

The Turian stares at the opposite wall for a moment before punching the ground with a growl.

I glance over at him, "What happened?"

He shrugs, "He was faster than I was."

"Not the chase, before, when the others got shot." I explain.

He shakes his head, "I'm not entirely sure myself. We were speaking together when the explosion happened; Varrik was right in the doorway. He just dropped, then the other two fell as we dove for cover. You?"

"I hit a grenade out of the air, and it blew up." I groan, rotating my shoulder.

"It was probably meant for us, thanks." He says, "Whoever did this didn't want us to investigate the killings."

"How would killing a few C-sec officers stop that?" I ask.

"We found a stash of explosives nearby." Garrus explains, "I think he was planning to blow the whole alley to get rid of the evidence, you interrupted him. He must have assumed that if he killed us quickly enough he could have still blown the place, and the fact that four C-sec officers were killed would cover up whatever else was found in the rubble."

"This is big isn't it?" I ask.

Garrus nods, "Very. You should go home and take a break. I imagine you will not be patrolling for a while."

He moves to get up, but I grab his arm, "Garrus. When you find out who did this, I want in on the arrest. Okay?"

We lock eyes for a few seconds, then he nods, "What's your name?"

"Kevin Marshal"

He stands, offering me his hand, I take it and he pulls me to my feet before nodding and giving my hand a firm shake.

"You've got a deal."

I watch him leave and wonder exactly how long it will be until he contacts me. He disappears into the alley, and I turn away, heading for the closest rapid transit terminal. A hot shower never sounded so good.

XXXXXX

My apartment on the Tikara ward is nice. Third floor, good view of the presidium, and the best part, absolutely free. That's one of the perks of knowing a Spectre I guess, I think back to our last brief meeting. Him and Illia were going to pursue a lead that the prisoner had given them on doctor Nigel, to be honest, I'm not sure how good the information will be. I was right when I told the Doctor he was the new guy, he only knew about the compound he was stationed it, and a few other locations, which turned out to be false leads.

But they're gone now, and I am very much alone. I usually hang out with Chemalon or Malis when I'm not studying, which is hardly ever. I have a lot of catching up to do. All of my experience in the medical field is on humans, and I don't even have a human on my team. Xenophysiology is a bugger, applied xenophysiology is just torture. I can't imagine any time in the near future where I will need to patch up a Quarian, but that's one of the classes. I don't think C-sec employs any Quarians.

I spend about forty minutes enjoying the almost scalding water of my shower before changing into my casual wear; loose, navy blue pants and a white t-shirt and falling back onto my bed. I initially planned to lay back for a bit, then go out and do some exploring. That idea drifts away just about as lazily as my consciousness.

XXXXXX

I watch in a daze as a reaper lands on the council tower of the Citadel, red lightning arcs around it, then shoots down the tower, coursing along the presidium, and scattering across the wards. A roar of triumph splits the air, and the arms open. A host of stars shoots across the sky, spiraling in lazy patterns until they resolve into dark silhouettes of every imaginable shape.

"No…" I whisper, "What is this?"

_The future_.

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><p>Alright, next few chapters will be more or less about life on the Citadel! Nothing terribly crazy, but should be interesting (for me at least). I didn't think I should bore you with the opening act of Kevin's C-Sec career. Think of it as those first few weeks as a college freshman, or a high school freshman, whichever you're closer to, that should sum it up.<p> 


	7. A Lukewarm Beginning

Hello everybody!

So, having gotten my grade condition under control, and being filled with the rage of a Mass Effect fan end at the end of ME3, I have once again taken up my pen (fingers?) and sought to shape the ME universe into something that doesn't make me feel dirt inside when it's over.

Enjoy the latest chapter, and crave the more to come.

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><p>Zero Probability<p>

Chapter 5

A Lukewarm Beginning

Having a week off on the citadel is kind of like being in an amusement park the size of a small country, with only twenty four hours to enjoy it. There is so much to do, and practically no time to do it. So, what did I do with my time off?

Reading.

In the few months that I have been on the citadel, I have become uncomfortably aware of the huge gaps in my knowledge that are a direct result of the fact that I was not raised in this time. I could tell you that there was a horrific attack on the United States over a hundred years ago, and describe some of the people who suffered in detail. Whenever I talk to someone I sound like a guy who runs a séance for late twentieth century ghosts, a creepily accurate séance.

I set down my latest book, a short history of the Krogan rebellions, and lay back on my bed. The mattress gives way slightly, and I sigh. They got one thing right in the future, the beds. I promised myself I would go down to the shooting range, see if I could drill a little with my assault rifle. The exciting life of Kevin Marshal on the Citadel, woohoo.

I shake off my melancholy and pull myself up. My omni-tool beeps once, and I check for a message. Looks like some of the other cadets want to go play grav-ball later tonight, sounds like fun. I grab an energy bar and head out the door.

The nearest fast transit terminal is a half mile away, so I have time to think on my way. I have been to visit both Chemalon and Malis in the hospital since they were injured a few days ago. Chemalon should be out today, but Malis has another few days of rest, mostly because the rifle shot that hit him punctured a lung. I play with the idea of visiting Varrik, but discard it, I'm probably the last person he wants to see right now, he doesn't appreciate appearing weak in front of humans.

I catch the shuttle to the terminal outside the academy and catch the lift down into the heart of the Citadel's defense force HQ. I gaze wistfully at the scene sprawled before me as the elevator slides into a transparent tube. To think, this whole thing will be gone within a few years, after the reaper attack. Well, I guess it will still be here, but you don't get to see it in Mass Effect 2, maybe I'll drop by for a look, see if the place has changed after they are done rebuilding.

The lift slides to a halt, and I step forward, avoiding the law enforcement offices and requisitions. A pristine hallway lit a little too perfectly leads me to the firing range, deserted at this time of day, just the way I like it. It's bad enough that I suck with an assault rifle, I don't want to have people actually watch me fail at hitting the large target at the end of the range.

I shove the rest of my bar into my mouth and chew as I contemplate the weapons before me. Nothing here could compare to the stuff that Shepherd will eventually get, but it's not too shabby. I grab a lancer and march up to the firing line, I'll start with the most frustrating part.

Taking careful aim, I focus in on the target while spreading my feet slightly apart, just like the instructors said. I squeeze the trigger, and a flurry of rounds peppers the target. An accuracy reading pops up next to me, sixty eight.

It's going to be a long day.

I end up blowing holes in the target with my shotgun after a couple hours. I apologize mentally to the image of the Krogan, and march off, feeling surly. I make my way back to my apartment and grab my grav-ball gear, then head off to the courts, avoiding public transit, I need a warm up anyway.

When I arrive, a few other cadets are milling around, including one of my squadmates.

"Chemalon!" I exclaim, already feeling my mood lighten.

His large eyes blink once, and he smiles, "Kevin, it is good to see you."

"Are you alright?"

"I appear to have made a full recovery, but don't expect me to win the game for you like always," He warns, "I am still a little sore."

I raise an eyebrow, "Really Chemalon?"

He gives me a Salarian grin, "I am the most valuable player."

I rub my temples, "Whatever."

The remaining cadets show, and we get into our teams. Grav ball is an interesting sport, it's designed to help us learn to deal with zero gravity environments, and is similar to football. Each team member is outfitted with magnetic boots, allowing them to latch onto the floor, ceiling, or a variety of 'debris' floating around. When in possession of the ball, you are not allowed to move, even if you catch it while in mid-air. A three dimensional scoring area is guarded by a keeper, who has four mobile platforms the can be manipulated while he is not on them.

It's a little complicated, but so is fighting in zero gravity.

"Kevin, you're with me," Marcus says, gesturing forward, "Chemalon, you're on keeper duty."

Chemalon nots and moves onto one of the platforms, firing up his omni-tool to control the movement of the others.

"Game on!" Someone yells, and I see our striker miss the ball.

With eleven players on the field for each side, things can get a little crazy, so Marcus and I opt to skirt around the edges of the field, an enclosed box, and wait. The ball shoots past our defenders, but Chemalon intercepts it with a dive from above, being the only player capable of maintaining possession of the ball while moving inside a certain range. He touches the ground and tosses the ball to Marcus.

I disengage my boots and shoot forward, latching onto some debris as Marcus passes the ball to me. A hand shoots up to swipe the ball from my grasp, but I twist, lobbing the ball down. Marcus catches it and throws it back.

"Seda!" I yell.

Our third striker nods, and I shoot the ball to her. She snatches it from the reaching arms of another competitor, and I propel myself in front of their goal.

"Bring down the sky!" I call.

The ball practically appears in my hands, and I fake for the shot. The keeper, a Turian named Jirak takes the bait, lunging down. I arc my hand slightly, shooting over the goal, past the defender attempting to block, and right into Durness' waiting strike. The Turian shoots off the wall, rearing back, and delivers a powerful open handed blow to the ball, propelling it into the scoring zone. We let loose a cheer as a tally mark appears above our goal.

Forty minutes later, my team mills about, clapping each other on the back and generally having a good time as we bask in our victory. I decline the offer to go out for drinks and head home, I'll need to do some more reading, for classes this time. The ending score was 4-2, our way, making this a pretty good day for me.

About half way home, I feel something shift slightly in the ever present buzz of mass effect fields that are a part of the background of the Citadel. I pause for a moment, then shrug, it can't be anything to worry about, at least for me.

XXXXXX

One of the things about not being on patrol is that the Academy finds other things for you to do in your spare time. Granted, it doesn't take as much time as patrol usually does, and it gives alternative credits depending on what you do, but it can be slightly… tedious.

Today I've been assigned to fill out paperwork. More specifically, I have been assigned to fill out the paperwork of Garrus Vakarian, who is horribly behind on everything related to procedure. Now normally, I don't have a problem with paperwork, but this guy must not have filled anything out since the dawn of time. The size of his back work is enormous, I'm talking terabytes here.

I gaze in hopelessness at the clutter of datapads, OSDs and the half working terminal on the desk in front of me.

"Okay, relax Kevin," I tell myself, "It can't be as bad as you think it is, right? How much trouble could one C-sec detective get into?"

I pick up a random datapad and scan it, my mouth drops open; it's a citation for unnecessary force, and it's almost six months old. Does he even read this stuff? It could go on his record if he doesn't get it taken care of. I glance around at the other detectives, most of whom are struggling to hide smirks that are suspiciously directed at me. I'm guessing that this isn't anything new, I'm probably just the newest in a long string of cadets who have had the paperwork of Vakarian thrust upon them during his spare time. Good Lord, I think I'm in trouble.

"It's okay Kevin," I urge myself, "Life is a river. Think of it as Zen, just one thing at a time."

The citation is a good place to start. I start reviewing files about what happened and finish it in about fifteen minutes, transferring it to the hideously empty outbox of Garrus terminal. Yes, I can do this, just need to go with the flow.

I'm not sure how much time passes after I fall into a rhythm. I feel like I'm running damage control for a sociopath, but that doesn't deter me, too much. One datapad, then the next, a quick jump into the database for some info, and another report filed. Wonderful, I think I'm getting somewhere.

Garrus appears at the point where I start to see actual desk. He pauses, glancing at the neat stack of datapads next to the desk.

"You've done all of these?" He asks.

I nod, "More or less."

"Oh?" He asks.

"I need you to review and sign them, shouldn't take you more than a half hour." I reply.

I hear a beeping sound, and glance up to see his omnitool wink out of existence, "I've sent you my e-credentials, just add it on to them."

I blink in confusion, "Uhhhhh, I think that's illegal."

He flips his hand at me as he walks away, "I have more important things to do than please bureaucrats. Don't let the Executor know."

And then he's gone. I look over at the stack of datapads, wondering exactly what just happened. Did I just become an accessory to fraud?

"He must like you." One of the detectives notes, tossing me a wink.

"How so?" I ask.

"He usually just grunts and walks away after the first reply, that guy has a chip the size of the Destiny Ascension on his shoulder." He explains, "You also seem to have a gift with paperwork, you wouldn't want to do some more would you?"

He indicates his significantly less cluttered desk. I think the look of horror on my face gets message across, because he chuckles and turns back to his work. I get back to mine, losing myself in the rhythm again.

There is no one left in the office when I reach for another report and find none. I blink blearily, wondering if it could be possible, but I guess it is, because there is literally nothing around me. I attach the credentials to the last document and send it off, leaning back in the Turian designed chair.

My omni-tool indicates that I have just about 6 hours before my next class. I groan, pulling myself out of the seat before stumbling out of investigations. That's when I spot her. Although C-Sec is technically active at all times, there is a lull between the 'day' shift of the presidium and the 'night' shift. More specifically, there shouldn't be anybody in the Executor's office.

The open door admits a figure who slips into the dark interior. I instinctively go for my pistol, which is of course, not there. I glance around, trying to find a weapon of some kind, but find only potted plants and smooth surfaces. Confronting a criminal with nothing but my fists and an attitude doesn't seem like a good idea.

I contemplate for a second, then slap myself. You're a bloody biotic Kevin.

Right, new plan.

I sneak over to the door to the Executor's office and peek in. I see an orange lit figure working furiously at the Executor's terminal, an Asari by the looks of it, a very focused Asari. I decide that it would be inadvisable to reveal my presence when I can take her down with a single shot, so I reach deep within myself.

The well of energy is still there, like it always is, connecting me to the fluctuating mass effect fields that are a part of everyday life in this place. I tap into it, feeling the layers of force coalesce around me in a sheath of blue light. That's when she notices me.

I realize about five seconds too late that all Asari have biotic potential, and an Asari infiltrator would definitely have training in them if she were any kind of good. Before I can draw enough energy to lay her out, a brilliant aura erupts around her.

"Touche" I manage.

A wave of biotic force clips my shoulder, spinning me out of the office with the pop of a dislocated socket. I scream in pain and roll twice before hitting the wall. The breath shoots out of my body and I find myself trying to gasp, and yell at the same time. A hoarse rasp escapes my mouth as I suck in a mouthful of air.

The air around me shimmers as the energy I had previously collected spins out in all directions, knocking over a plant nearby. At the same time, a backlash of unbridled force presses in on me for a second, squeezing my entire body like a vice. My shoulder pops back into it's socket, but I can't seem to find the breath to scream, probably because it has all been squeezed out of my lungs, again.

The invisible hand crushing me releases it's grip, and I find myself looking up at the infiltrator. The Asari is wearing blackened armor, and points a pistol at my head. Ideas flash through my head, most of them screaming about movement, but my body doesn't respond as fast as it should. Instead, a series weapons discharge, causing ripples of blue to appear around the Asari, who dives away from me, sprinting down the corridor as more officers pursue her.

A human kneels next to me, touching my neck. I mumble something about the Executor, and the man nods, pushing me down as I try to rise.

"Easy there cadet," He says, "The medics will be here in a second."

He disappears, and I lie back, trying not to think about how much my shoulder hurts. I really hope that it got reset in the proper position, or it's going to be a long night of doctors trying to rearrange my bones just right.

A medic appears above me, and begins running his hands over me.

"Easy there buddy, you should probably buy me dinner first." I mumble.

He chuckles, "Well, I am certainly glad to see that you can still make some jokes. We're going to move you to the hospital, it looks like you might have a concussion judging by the bleeding coming from the back of your head."

"Oh good." I grunt.

That explains why I feel so woozy.

Medevac takes just about as long as it should, which is longer than any man should have to wait to be moved to a hospital. I was about ready to get up and walk myself, but for some reason I couldn't find the coordination to get up. I guess there was something to that guy's hypothesis.

At the hospital I pass through several machines, and some doctors poke me and ask me questions. I manage to flirt with one of them, who brushes me off rather tidily, which makes me smile a bit. Before long I find myself laying on a bed with a sling and several dozen bruises and lacerations and a quickly fading headache. Modern medicine has done wonderful things with painkillers.

The most aggravating thing about being drugged is the inability to think. Every time I try to reason out what just happened, I find that my mind goes back into a loop about something else, like the pattern of the sheets upon which I lie. It's a criss-cross pattern, quite intricate actually, which is strange for a hospital. Whenever I manage to draw my mind back to the events of tonight, I can't help but wonder if what just happened is related to the incident that I just ran into while on patrol. The odds of me being involved in two separate events of the same case at random are astronomical, but I can't help feeling a slight itching in the back of my mind about it. I need to find out what that Asari was looking for.

XXXXXX

Unsurprisingly, the doctors release me the next morning, warning me to avoid any more knocks to the head. They said it like I had intentionally gone out and gotten blown into a wall by an Asari infiltrator on purpose. What kind of a freak would do that? But I agree that I should try to take better care of myself, and perhaps think before engaging an Asari with biotics. Illia mentioned that my biotic capacity is quite high, but I'm still just a toddler holding a handgun, deadly, but wholly untrained.

Before I leave the hospital I decide to visit my team. It's been almost a week, and I feel kind of bad for not seeing them since they got shot. I get directions from a receptionist and find myself stepping through a door into a room occupied by six beds. Two of the occupants are fast asleep, and three are empty, leaving one bed occupied by a Turian whose markings I recognize.

Varrik nods in my direction, indicating that I am welcome. Picking up on non-verbal signs of other races has turned into a hobby of mine. If he had tilted his head to the left, he would have been wondering why I was here, and if he had ignored me, it would mean I was not welcome. I take the seat beside his bed and notice the lack of paraphernalia that usually come with being in the hospital.

"No get well cards?" I ask, trying to break the ice.

He glances at me, then turns his attention to his arm as his omni-tool flashes to life, "Two of the three members of my squad are already here, and I have no family on the Citadel."

The invisible jab makes me wince, "Yeah, I've been meaning to come and see you about that, I-"

He cuts me off, powering down his omni-tool, "No, I am glad you did not come."

Anger flashes through my head, "Oh really?"

He raises a hand in a placating gesture, "Yes, but not like that. I needed time to think about what has happened."

The anger fades, and I listen on as he speaks.

"I have spent the majority of my life hating Humans Kevin, it has been a simple fact of my existence," He says, "Last week something happened that I never thought would happen to me, my life was saved by a member of the race whom I have so come to loathe.

"I wrestled with this thought for a long time Kevin, it seemed to counter everything I believed about your race. It seemed so wrong to me that my life should be preserved by one of the people who shamed my father."

"Shamed your father?" I feign

He gives me a level look, "You and I both know that you have researched my dislike of humans."

"Right."

He continues, "I found myself beholden to you, and I hated you all the more for it. How could I be indebted to a human? Humans are the enemy. I spent a long time brooding about it until Malis punched me."

"He what?"

Varrik chuckles, "Relax Kevin, it was nothing more than a love tap, but it got my attention. What happened to my father was unforgivable, but I cannot blame an entire species for something that was done by a few. Someday I will find the men responsible for what happened to my father, and they will pay, but I will not live my life like a blood crazed Varren, lashing out at anything that gets close."

"So… you don't hate humans any more?" I venture.

"I still dislike humans, it will take a lot more than this to change my opinion, but I have decided that everybody deserves a chance. Thank you for opening my eyes Kevin." He responds, "And thank you for my life."

I grin, "Does this mean we're pals now?"

"Don't push it. I respect you as an ally Kevin, that does not mean you can get away with acting like a fool around me." He warns.

"Aww c'mon, you have a soft spot for me now, don't you!" I tease.

He raises an eye ridge, "You may want to leave this room before my feelings become less charitable."

I suppress another taunt and stand up, offering him my hand, "Well, thanks Varrik, I look forward to getting back to work with you."

He nods grimly, reaching out almost hesitantly, like he expects to be burned by my mere touch. We shake hands, and miraculously, no smoke appears. I imagine that would put a dent in our newfound friendship.

I take my leave after promising to bring him some real food, and step out into the hall. Malis is waiting for me, but Chemalon is nowhere to be found.

"I would say that your reunion with Varrik was less than cordial, but it looks like you got those bruises earlier." Malis remarks.

I nod, "There was a break in at C-Sec, I tried to stop the intruder, she took offence. Apparently biotic psychopaths don't like to be interrupted while they are trying to hack into the Executor's computer."

Malis' eyes narrow, "What was she after?"

I shrug, "I didn't get a look, I was busy being thrown against a wall."

He rubs his chin, "I am back on duty tomorrow, meet me at our usual rally point, I want to look into this."

I raise an eyebrow, "Shouldn't you leave that to the detectives."

He scowls, "This is personal Kevin, she took down a member of my team."

"Do we get to hug now or something?"

"Try it and you'll find out how many different ways a Turian soldier can take you down and hurt you without actually damaging your body."

"Where's Chemalon?"

"He has gone home," Malis replies, "I am only here because the bullet that hit me broke off a piece of my pelvis."

That catches my attention, "Through shields and armor?"

He nods, "There was a very high power rifle in use that day."

"Why do I get the feeling that we stumbled on something a lot bigger than a red sand deal gone bad?" I ask.

"Because I have the same feeling." Malis replies, "And I am going to get to the bottom of it, with our without the permission of Executor Pallin."

"I'll be there." I assure him.

He nods curtly and limps back into the room he is currently sharing with Varrik and four others. I watch as they talk for a moment, then walk away. Malis is right, something is wrong, and I think I want to get to the bottom of it as badly as he does.


	8. Chasing Ghosts

Zero Probability

Chapter 6

Chasing Ghosts

I check my omni-tool again as I lean against the wall of the C-sec academy armory. It's true that I'm still early, but Malis is usually here before me, He has 5 minutes until he is on time, which is highly unusual for the stoic Turian. Now that I think about it, I haven't really met any Turians that aren't stoic, it must come with the required military service, or the whole honor system that they live under. It makes sense how Garrus becomes such a rebel in the Mass Effect series, I would probably go insane if I were placed under the societal pressure that they seem to be bred to withstand.

Malis arrives at the two minute mark, moving with that confident almost bordering on arrogant stride. I say bordering because it would be arrogance if he weren't able to back it up. Let's just say that Malis is the kind of guy you would only want with you in a dark alley if he was your backup. Turian physiology makes them naturally tougher than anything in the galaxy besides Krogan, and maybe Vorcha. It's interesting that the rest of us naturally spacefaring races evolved out of a physical advantage based on the fact that we learned to use tools. That thought melds with my previous one, and I realize that Turian society has literally molded the Turian's physiology.

"Don't look so surprised to see me Kevin." Malis orders.

I clamp my mouth shut, not realizing that it had fallen open as I had come to my epitome, "Sorry Malis, I just realized something about Turians."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," I respond, "I think I now understand the link between Turian society and physiology."

Malis gives me that Turian smile, "Thinking of becoming a philosopher?"

"Someone on this team has to have some culture." I snort, "Varrik is too busy hating everything, and Chemalon would rather shoot than ask questions. Aren't Salarians supposed to be inquisitive?"

"I have always found the splatter of blood after a weapon discharge to be quite interesting." A voice announces.

I spin around, noting the appearance of the Salarian, "Chemalon."

"Kevin."

Malis calls our attention by making a strange noise that is probably the Turian equivalent of clearing one's throat. It sounds kind of like gravel being run through a coffee grinder.

"That can't be good for your throat your vocal cords you know." I note.

He silences me with a glance, "You two are here because we need to find out what exactly it is we stumbled upon last week. We already know that it has something to do with the illegal red sand trade, and it's important enough that someone sent an Asari infiltrator to the Executor's office the get something off of his computer. Our first step is to discover what made this deal so different, why were the dealers killed, and why were they willing to kill two C-sec officers and three cadets to cover it up."

"How do you know the break in and the dealers are connected?" Chemalon asks, "They could be completely isolated."

Malis holds up a pair of datapads, "Because the Asari was after this."

He tosses each of us a datapad and I glance down at mine. It's the C-sec report on the red sand deal we stumbled upon.

"How did you get his?" I ask.

Malis taps an OSD in his hand, "I made a copy as soon as the report was made. Whoever did this did not want C-sec investigating any leads, so they sent someone to alter the record before an investigation could be completed."

"So she wiped it from the computer?"

Malis shakes his head, "No, she altered it somehow. Deleting it outright would have been too suspicious. Every file connected to the extranet has been corrupted, but mine was a hard copy, incorruptible."

"So you have the report… why not turn it in to prove it was tampered with?" I ask.

Malis glances around. For the first time, I realize that this is the only place in the whole academy that doesn't have surveillance. Clever Turian.

"Because this whole thing smells like an inside job. That alley we moved into that day, it is not part of any normal C-sec patrol route, it has been systemically avoided by other patrols. How did the Asari get inside without triggering an alarm of any kind? How did she know the variable five minute window in which there would be literally no one in that hallway? There are too many unanswered questions, and if we flag this, they will know we are on to them. The only reason you found her was because you were not on any schedule, you were a wild card."

"Won't they be watching me then?" I ask.

"Only until they are certain you don't know the two events are connected."

"So I play dumb?"

Malis nods, "Make it obvious that you do not know why the Asari was here. Ask a lot of questions to different people. The informant will eventually discover that you do not know anything and will pass the word along."

"I don't want to be waiting around while you and Chemalon are out hitting the streets. We're a team." I interject.

Malis gestures to the datapad, "You have a job to do. You are still assigned to work on Vakarian's paperwork, yes?"

I nod, "For at least a week."

"Good, I need you to access the new file and compare it with this one, find out what was changed, that will probably be our most important lead."

I rub my chin, "Where will you two be going?"

"Back to the scene of the crime." Chemalon pipes up.

Malis nods in agreement, "I am hoping that there will be something there we can use.

"Alright, I'll meet you guys tonight, come to my place." I say, "I'll have the file."

"I expect nothing less." Malis replies.

With that, he and Chemalon move away, the Turian moving at a stride while the Salarian practically jogs to keep up with the larger alien. I take a moment to reflect on how much my life has changed. I'm about to embark on an investigation of who knows how large proportions, and I'm doing it with a pair of aliens. Less than a year ago I was worried about what grade I would get in organic chemistry, and now I spend most of my time studying alien anatomy and physiology. A lot has changed, and I can't say that it hasn't changed for the better. I feel like I have purpose in life now, I'm a part of something greater than myself, not just another of thousands of students at a university.

Even more, it's only a matter of time until the events that lead to the return of the Reapers begin rolling, and I'm going to be there. I realize now more than ever that it is my destiny to work with Shephard, to watch his back, and to help him succeed. I was brought here for a reason, and I'm sure that is has something to do with the first human Spectre. Today is the day that I begin to forge myself into someone who can stand as his ally in the storm to come.

XXXXXX

"How is it possible for one person to generate so much paperwork?" I mutter in frustration.

The desk of Garrus Vakarian is once again littered with datapads, and there is a frighteningly high number of messages on his computer. I feel more like a secretary than a cadet right now. I don't know how I am going to keep up with my studies if this happens every day.

The detective across me snorts, "Vakarian is a menace, he skirts the edge of every regulation he can, and habitually breaks those that will be overlooked."

I want to argue, but the tone and content of almost every piece of data on the desk proves him right. There isn't much here that doesn't involve an infraction or brush with standard procedure. But can I really let that kind of comment go? I know Garrus is not known for being a stickler for the rules, but still.

I lock eyes with the detective, "Garrus is not a menace."

That's all I have really. The detective gives a harrumph and gets back to his work to cover the fact that he may have just been proven wrong. I follow suit and sink back into my rhythm. Strangely enough, it takes less time than I thought it would, and I find myself getting up and leaving before some of the other people working the office. Yes! I have become the paperwork master! I slip the spare OSD which I downloaded the file onto into my pocket and move toward the exit. Before I reach the stairs I am stopped by a human officer.

"Hey kid, what you did back there, it was a good thing." The man says, "Standing up for Garrus."

"Thanks," I hold out my hand, "Kevin Marshal."

He shakes my hand, "Armando-Owen Bailey. Garrus does not always follow regulations, but he gets results, and he has saved more than a few people by cutting bureaucratic corners. Some people cannot see that, especially his father."

The man moves away, and I continue to my apartment, feeling like I should know that guy from somewhere. The walk home is largely uneventful, and I soon find myself laying back on my bed, trying to focus on the proper procedure for sterilizing Quarian wounds. Every time I open this book I am thankful that humanity still has a planet on which is can develop immunity to viruses and bacteria. The only upside I can think of is that should the Quarians ever become hostile, we could simply sneeze on them a lot to kill them all.

A sharp rap comes at my door, and I get up to answer it. Bloody Turians.

Malis and Chemalon make themselves at home while I load the OSD onto my terminal.

"What did you find?" I ask.

"Nothing," Chemalon replies, "The Keepes swept the whole place clean."

"Everything?" I ask.

"Everything." Malis confirms, "It's a wonder that C-sec can catch criminals on the citadel at all, with the Keepers destroying evidence left and right. Whoever designed those things was not thinking of civil protection."

I suppress a grimace, mostly because I know exactly what the Reapers had in mind when they engineered the Keepers of the Citadel.

"What about you?" Chemalon asks.

I bring up the file on my terminal, "Let's take a look."

We spend about three hours picking over the two reports.

I lean back, "Most of these changes are random, who does that?"

Chemalon nods thoughtfully, "Someone who expects to be caught. How long did the Asari have after she incapacitated you Kevin?"

"I have no idea, I was kind of disoriented." I complain.

Malis waves a hand, "It does not matter, we know that there were alterations made, we will just have to check every single one."

Chemalon groans, "I counted at least one hundred."

"That does seem like a lot Malis." I comment.

Malis turns to us, "Do either of you have a better idea?"

We stay silent.

"Chemalon, you are with me. Kevin, you are still playing dumb for a few days, but I need you to organize these discrepancies by importance. We have a better chance of finding the right lead if we go for the highest probability targets."

I look over my list of changes made to the document and nod, "I'll start right now. You should probably start with the names of the two dealers that have been changed, see what comes up there. Gell Haress and Yuri Tanaroff are your first leads."

"I will see what I can find at C-sec." Malis says, "Chemalon, you check the next alley over, where it says the incident happened."

"How has anyone not noticed a difference in these before?" I ask, throwing my hands into the air.

"The investigation had been delayed by someone." Malis replies, "That is your assignment, find out who has prevented C-sec from investigating this crime properly."

"Without drawing attention?"

"Be discrete. We are moving out."

They disappear and my door closes with a hiss. Studying Quarian infections suddenly seems a lot less important. Who blocked the C-sec investigation? The list of candidates above the Executor is fairly sparse, but I can't imagine a councilor doing it, and I don't believe most politicians have the ability to impede C-sec. That leaves one class of person.

A Spectre. Well crap, I'm looking for a ghost.

I glance over at my terminal, a thought popping into my head. When chasing a ghost, who do you employ? Another ghost of course. I pull myself up to the terminal and open a mail document.

_Nihlus,_

_I need your help with an investigation…_

XXXXXX

A month later, our investigation has ground literally to a standstill. Two weeks ago Varrik rejoined our squad, so now we are out on patrol again. Aside from that, my galactic law class has been suspended so that I can do Garrus' paperwork in that time, the results for my education are practically the same and I'm still earning credits. To top that all off, finals are coming up.

It gets even better.

"What do you mean they don't exist?" I demand.

Malis tilts his head at me, and I back off, "They simply don't exist. The two dead dealers, no records on file."

"Did you check the aliases?" I ask.

He nods, "Still nothing. It's like whoever changed the report not only had the power to slow a C-sec investigation, they could also make people disappear literally from a database."

I grunt and fall back into my seat, gazing dejectedly at my food, "So we have nothing?"

"Not precisely." Chemalon says.

"Oh?"

"Yes, when we discovered that the two names were non-existent, we checked the new names in the report."

"And?"

"We got a pair of matches. Both reported dead at the scene of the crime."

My mouth drops open, "What?"

Varrik nods thoughtfully, "It would make sense. If what you suspect is true Kevin, a Spectre would have the power to alter such documents."

"But why did he need to send an infiltrator is he could do all this from his terminal?" I ask.

"C-sec reports are held on a dedicated server and the extranet, just in case something goes wrong with either. The infiltrator was there to eliminate our end of the report." Varrik explains.

"So we have two reports, one is false, and one is real," I begin, "But the false one has become reality, and the real one has become false?"

"From everything we have been able to dig up, that appears to be the truth." Malis replies, setting his arms on the table.

I lean my forehead against the heel of my palm, "We're stuck. We've hit a dead end. I can't find our guy, my contact isn't responding, and our enemy has the ability to change who people are."

"I am afraid to admit that Kevin is correct, we have very little hope of discovering the truth in this situation." Chemalon agrees.

Malis growls and slams a hand into the table, "There has to be something."

"There is not." Chemalon shoots back, "We would have better luck taking down the Destiny Ascension with a pistol."

Malis sighs, "You are correct. I am going to turn in the original report, along with a report of my own to the Executor tomorrow, maybe he can figure something out."

"Not likely," I mutter, "The Executor hasn't been able to tell that the information was altered yet."

"We do not have a choice." Malis points out.

I hang my head in defeat, "Yeah, I know."

My omni-tool beeps, indicating an arrived message, and I open it up. As I scroll into the message tab, a smile lights up my face.

"Gentlemen," I pronounce, "Don't throw in the towel yet, we just caught ourselves a break."

I just got a message from Nihlus.

XXXXXX

I toss my book on Asari physiology onto my bed and drop down into the seat in front of my terminal. As I sit, a warning flashes, indicating an incoming call. I hit the respond button and Nihlus' face appears before me.

I grin, "Nihlus!"

"Kevin," he greets me, "What is this about?"

Right to business then, "My team and I are investigating an incident where we were almost killed, and we need your help."

"Do you not have the resources of C-sec for that?" He questions.

I shake my head, "There was a cover up, whoever did this has higher level clearance than anyone in C-sec. The report was doctored by an infiltrator, and the facts on several other points have been changed in the C-sec database."

Nihlus pauses, "You suspect it was the work of a Spectre."

It wasn't a question.

"Or someone using a Spectre's authorizations." I rebut.

"Kevin, this is not something you want to get involved in, " Nihlus warns, "There is a reason why Spectres are given special license over their strictness in heeding the law. You could be stumbling into a project that has been going for years, or worse, you could encounter someone who actually does have the power to gain a Spectre's codes. Either case would not end well for you or your friends."

I stare at him incredulously, "Are you telling me to back off?"

Nihlus returns my gaze for a moment before nodding calmly, "You are over your head on this one Kevin."

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

My eyes narrow, "I can't walk away Nihlus, something is wrong here, and it's not going to go away if I ignore it."

Nihlus' eyes glint, "Very well Kevin, let us say you go through with your investigation, and you find who you are looking for, what exactly do you plan to do next?"

"Stop them!"

"Indeed?" Nihlus retorts, "Have you thought this through Kevin? Whoever has the power to alter public records is not going to be someone whom you can point a finger at and accuse. They will have protection, both political and physical, should it come to vigilantism. Do you have an army at your back, because I can guarantee whoever is doing this does."

My first instinct is to snap back, to put him on the defensive, even as I rock back on my own heels. I quickly suppress that desire and face him squarely, "Then help me."

That seems to catch him off guard, because he falls silent for a moment, as if he were debating with himself about something. Almost a minute passes at a snail's pace before he meets my eyes again.

"You are going to do this, even if I do not help you."

I remain silent.

"Against my better judgment, I am going to help you."

My eyebrow shoots up, "Oh?"

A file is uploaded onto my computer as Nihlus begins to speak, "I have a friend, a fellow Spectre on the Citadel on other business. I will send him a message, if he can help, he will. This is his contact information."

I want to grin and frown at the same time. I'm going to get help, but not the way I had hoped. I watch as the file upload is completed and open it. As soon as I read the profile heading, my stomach drops into my shoes.

"And Kevin," Nihlus adds, "Make sure you have a Turian contact him, he will only be antagonized if a human tries to get his help."

My hopes plummet farther than they were before I got Nihlus' message. I'm about the work with the last person I ever wanted to encounter in this universe.

Saren Arterius.

XXXXXX

I throw a left hook at the punching bag in front me, growling out my frustration and fear. I bounce back for a second, then dart forward, delivering a flurry of blows to where an imaginary opponent's stomach would be.

After my chat with Nihlus, I couldn't sleep. I laid on my bed for at least three hours, the thought of working with Saren Arterius festering inside my mind, growing into a cancer of bitterness and resentment. A logical part of my mind tells me that Nihlus did it to help, but he has just teamed me up with the galaxy's most unsavory character. When I think of all the things Saren has done, all the things he will do. I just want to…

I take a double hop back, drawing dark matter into my body. The sense of power, combined with the stark realization of the frailty of my flesh seeps into my senses. I let the energy build until a tunnel of darkness begins to form over my vision, and a faint dizziness stirs my mind about. With a roar of anger, I lash out with my fist, imagining the figure of Saren where the bag is.

The gathered dark matter surges forward, tearing a hole in the air as it leaps into reality. I feel my rage depart with it, carried away by the wave of unyielding force. The punching bag never stood a chance. The biotic throw smashes into it, tearing it free from the chain that holds it suspended. It soars through the air, bounces off the far wall, and comes to a stop at my feet. I pant as a wave of fatigue washes over me.

The anger has abated, but only slightly. I guess beating things up does make one feel bet-

"I would give my left arm to be able to throw something like that on a good day." A voice pipes up.

I spin, my eyes darting left and right, hands raised in a defensive position. My gaze falls upon a woman dressed in a pair of C-sec sweats, who appears to be ready for some kind of martial training.

"Relax mister macho." She says, moving towards me, "It was a compliment. You aren't old enough to be an L2, but I don't think an L3 could attack with that much force, at least not with the amount of control that you were exhibiting."

"Control?" I mutter numbly.

What am I supposed to do?

She snorts, "You had a halo about two feet wide around you. Didn't they teach you how to focus dark matter before launching it?"

I shake my head, not trusting my tongue to speak anything intelligent right now. My mind is still racing, trying to think of what to say when she inquires about the origins of my biotic abilities.

"Hmph," She hmphs, "Gave you some kind of experimental implant and didn't teach you how to use your abilities. Typical."

I back away, "Look, I was just leaving."

"Don't let me scare you away cadet, I'm only here to exercise like you. You're not the only one who is having trouble sleeping at night." She assures me, "But seeing as how we're both here, maybe we could do a little training together."

"Boxing?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow, "I was thinking of something a little more fantastic than hand fighting."

"I… uhhhh." I begin.

"Relax, I promise not to laugh at how bad you are." She says, "I can't teach you much in the way of advanced powers, but I can give you a few pointers on control."

I pause at that. She thinks I don't want to because I'm embarrassed at how bad I am. I can work with that. Ever since arriving on the Citadel, my own experiments in expanding my biotic abilities have met with failure after failure. I've come to the conclusion that I need an instructor, and one has just been dropped into my lap, can I really afford to turn her down?

"I would like that." I admit, trying to look sheepish.

She smiles, "Just don't do to me what you did to that punching bag, I don't bounce quite as well."

I move closer and hold out my hand, "Kevin Marshal."

She takes my hand in a firm grip, "Christa Delwyn."

She closes her eyes, and I feel the disturbance of dark energy gathering around us.

"Let's get started," She says, pulling back.


End file.
